Nemesis
by cruelangel101
Summary: In a bizarre chain of events, Anne finds herself as the Queen of France, after a plot saved her from the tower. With revenge, politics, past identities and power plays in mind, she carves out a new path and embraces her destiny. Detail Summary Inside…New Chapter Update.
1. Prologue: The Beginning

**Title: Nemesis**

**Author: **Cruelangel101

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...Not the characters, not the show, and certainly not the production company…can anyone own history?**

**Detailed Summary:** Starting from the scene where Anne watched her brother's execution, Anne finds herself pregnant with the King's child. They thought she was saved, but the King still enraged and determined to marry Jane Seymour, chose to believe the child was the offspring of one of the executed man. Anne's execution was determined to proceed after the birth of her child. A plot from an unexpected family member, rescued her from the tower and in the most bizarre chain of events she ended up as the Queen of France. All the while her rival Jane Seymour rises to the position of Queen of England. Her heart cold from betrayal and filled with hopes for revenge, what would the future hold? Can new warmth melt her iced heart or will past spark ignite once more? This time when two men battle for her heart, the consequence is war. (Queen of France and son after the tower ideas are hardly new to fanfic, but I would like take a new spin on it.)

**Pairings:** Anne/Francis I and Anne/Henry VIII (haven't decided on which one yet, we'll see where the story goes)

**Nemesis…the Greek goddess of revenge…**

**Prologue: The Beginning **

_The crowd outside was chaotic, voices from every side, but she had only one thing on her mind. She had to see it. She dragged a large wooden trunk to the window and climbed on top of it, watching it from the window of her cell in the tower. Her vision was not perfect, slightly hindered by the X shaped bars on the window, but she could see…see every detail of the event…the execution…_

_They brought out her brother first. Poor George caught up in the hatred of the King, because she had failed. She had promised the King a son, but she hadn't given one to him. Time was not on her side anymore. It was her fault that her brother had to pay the price. He was innocent but that did not matter if the King is angry. He shook slightly as he faced the crowd, scared of his coming fate no doubt. The crowd jeered at him, pointing their thumbs down and screaming "traitor" to his face. He didn't deserve that. He betrayed no one. Tears had already started to gather is her eyes, but she forced herself to continue and watch. This was her brother's last moments. _

_George Boleyn made a speech to the crowd, but they did not listen. She wished she could have heard what he said, her brother's last words, but the crowd was too loud. Before she knew it, the executioner had already placed him on the chopping block and pulled back his white shirt. Her heart speed up, there, another sharp pain in her heart, her throat turned dry, but she had to watch. She had to, he was her brother._

_The executioner aimed the axe before George's neck several times, practiced his strokes. She could not hear the crowd any longer. She could hear anything; only see the axe swinging in the air, the axe that will rob her brother of his life. Then he was gone with one solid swing. George was gone. Her brother, the one comforted her she had been at wits ends, the one who had teased her relentlessly growing up, the one who grew up playing with her. Simply gone…she would never hear his laughs again. Just gone…two pieces…the executioner used his legs to push his body, his headless body, aside. The body fell; she imagined it made a thumping noise…_

_She lost her resolve to watch all four executions then and there. She screamed, clutching her chest, unable to stand any longer. She cried. She cried, and she cried, letting the past months' feelings out. Her heart felt like it was trampled by a million horses, pain beyond anything she had ever felt. She couldn't breathe anymore. As she gasped for breaths, her cries continued. She didn't care who heard her. The executions continued outside…_

_

* * *

_

_Crammer was fidgeting as he strode about the room. She knew something was wrong, but what more could the King do to her now? He had ordered her execution. He had murdered four innocent men. She had seen her own brother's death. It was her fault they all had to die wasn't it? If only she had given birth to a son. The Seymours must be laughing at her by Wolf Hall._

"_My Lady I am obliged to tell you, that your marriage to the King has been declared null and void." He couldn't face her when he told her._

_She heard herself ask immediately, "On what grounds?"_

_Crammer still could not face her, "On the grounds of your close and forbidden affinity to another woman, known carnally by the King."_

_She didn't know whether to laugh or cry; she felt another stab of pain on her heart. Henry had been crueler than she had thought possible. "My sister." Her lips twitched ever so slightly, every beat of her heart…she felt that sharp pain…again and again, "Then my daughter is…"_

"_Yes, Elizabeth is to be declared a bastard."_

_She closed her eyes, feeling it difficult to breathe again. She couldn't face this anymore. Why? Why did he have to be so cruel? She had loved him. She had loved him with her whole being, yet he had thrown their love away for some whore. He is too cruel to not even let her die with hopes that Elizabeth would be safe. He wanted that whore's children to have a clear path to the throne, she knew that. The Seymours would never stand to have the whore's daughters placed behind Elizabeth. She forced herself to stand up still, she would show no weakness to master Kingston, whom is to report her every action to the King._

"_Madame, I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to support and protect her." Crammer approached her and finally brought the courage to face her. She opened her eyes to look at him. "And to keep her always in the King's good and kind graces."_

"_Thank you," she didn't need to say that to him, her eyes had already told it all. "And now since my time approaches, I beg your grace to hear my confession." As Cranmer led her to the center of the room, Kingston made his attempt to leave, but she stopped him, "Also, I should like the constable present when I receive the good lord." She wanted him to report her confession to the King._

_Kingston bowed and obliged her, "Madame."_

_As Cranmer took a seat, she knelt before him, "My child, do you have a confession?"_

_She had her head bowed, "Yes," she lifted her head and looked Cranmer straight in the eyes, "I confess my innocence before god. I solemnly swear on the damnation of my soul that I have never been unfaithful to my lord and husband, nor have ever offended with my body against him. I do not say that I have always bore the humility towards him of which I owed him, considering the kindness and great honor he showed me and the great respect he always paid me. I admit too that I have often taken it into my head to be jealous of him." She paused for the slightest of moments, recalling her fits of jealousy. She had only been jealous because she had loved him so greatly, if she had not fallen in love with him, then she would have turned a blind eye. "But god knows and as my witness, I have not sinned against him in any other way." How could he think that of her? "Think not I say this in the hopes of prolonging my life. God has taught me how to die and he will strengthen my faith." Her voice cracked slightly here. "As for my brother…" she had to take another moment. Her poor brother that the King had murdered. "and those others who were unjustly condemned. I would have willingly suffered many deaths to deliver them. But since I see it pleases the King, I will willingly accompany them in death. With this assurance…" tears had formed in her eyes again, "that I shall lead an endless life with them…in peace." She bowed her head again, having finished her confession. Her ladies cried._

_Cranmer took a deep breath before drawing a cross on her forehead, "Master Kingston, please go and make sure to report my lady's last confession so the world will know it."_

_The man stood up and bowed, "I will." _

She closed her eyes as her heart felt like it was being torn to pieces. The pain didn't stop at her chest though but traveled down until a sharp pain made her clutch her stomach in fear as she felt warm liquid running down her legs. The room shifted and became distorted as her head started to feel ever so light. The last thing she remembered was Master Cranmer immediately at her side, yelling "Quick fetch a physician."

* * *

_**May 17**__**th**__**, 1536, Palace of Whitehall**_

Henry Tudor, the King of England, stared at Cromwell unblinkingly. He just could not comprehend it.

Master Cromwell sighed, they were not in favor with God on this matter, "Anne, the Marquess of Pembroke, is with child. The Marquess almost had a miscarriage the day prior but the tower physician was able to manage a save."

The King blinked again, "she is carrying _their bastard_?" he hissed, feeling anger beginning to boil in his veins again. The thought of that the child may have been a product of incest disgusted him beyond belief.

"Your Majesty, regardless of the father of the child, under English law, we cannot execute a pregnant woman." Cromwell knew better than to point out to the King that the child may be fathered by the King. Of course he of all people knew that most likely the King was the father. But he was merely a servant of the King and the King wished to be rid of Anne so he could be free to marry the mistress Jane Seymour. The King was determined to marry Mistress Seymour and wanted her path to the throne to be cleared of all obstacles which of course included Anne. As long as Anne was alive, Jane's position of Queen would be tainted. The King did not wish to have two women claiming the title of Queen again. And of course what the King wanted, Cromwell was only happy to oblige the King. Anne was no friend of his.

There was a long pause of silence. Henry didn't want to marry Jane until Anne was dead, but if they were to wait for the birth of the child then he would have to wait a couple of months, unless she miscarried. He didn't think he could wait that long. But he had no choice now did he?

* * *

_**May 18**__**th**__**, 1536, Tower of London**_

"Your execution has been delayed until after the birth of your child, Madame," Kingston told Anne.

She felt numb. Had she heard correctly? He said delayed and not retracted. Henry was still planning on having her head chopped off despite the fact that she was now carrying their child. His cruelty and determination knew no bounds.

* * *

_**June 1**__**st**__**, 1536, Hever Castle**_

"You have already watched George, your only son, be murdered by the King's lust, you cannot just watch her be killed. Are you not our father? What good will ever come to you when you are at the ends of your life with all your children gone," his daughter's words struck a chord in his cold heart.

But there was nothing he could do, was there? But the pregnancy had brought them time.

* * *

**December 15****th****, 1536, Tower of London**

She had spent seven months in hell, seven months in the tower of London. Given the conditions of the tower, it had been a miracle that she was able to carry the child to term, let alone have a healthy delivery. The midwives had told her it was a healthy boy, but they had rushed the babe away before she saw him, denying her wish to hold him, even if it was just for a little while.

Despite her happiness of her new child, she could feel the chilliness of approaching death. Seven months had been a long time for someone to calm down from rash decisions governed by anger, but he still maintained that her execution was to take place. Master Cranmer had confided in her, that a few times the King had thought to spare her but Cromwell had reminded him of the political instability that it would bring, so the King spared her no more thought. She wanted to be a part of her son's life, to be a part of Elizabeth's life, but she would not be given the chance. She had never hated Him more than she does now.

Her father, despite, her mistrust in his motives, had asked the King to care for the child despite the fact that Henry had clearly stated that this child was not in favor with him, an unrecognized bastard. She hoped dearly that he would not use her little boy as a tool like he did with her, George and Mary. She remembered the good times of when she was but a little girl. Her father had been doting and loving then. Perhaps he could be a kind and good grandfather to a little boy who would no doubt have a harsh life as a "bastard", harsher than that of Elizabeth's for he had no father.

_BANG_, there was a lot of yelling suddenly as she turned her head to the door…

* * *

_**December 16**__**th**__**, 1536, Palace of Whitehall**_

"She is dead?" asked the King of England. He had a hard time believing Secretary Cromwell's tale.

Cromwell, himself, doubted the validity of the story as well, but it suited him just as well in this situation, "Yes Your Majesty, the tower was attacked yesterday, and an explosion incinerated the room with the Marquess in it. It is suspected that the group of men involved was trying to kill the Marquess for they feared that with the birth of her son, Your Majesty would pardon her."

Henry felt rather numb at the news. How was he supposed to feel about this? He had calmed from his rage at Anne. He had loved her and once gave her everything, but she betrayed him. She lied to him about her virginity and she failed in her promise in giving him a son. Then she had laid with those men, committing treason. He hated her, hated her with every fiber of his being, but if he was more honest with himself, he would have to admit that he hated her because he loved her. Only she would be able to incite such an emotion out of him. She's gone now…was he supposed to be happy that he could finally marry his sweet Jane? But why was he feeling a rather large emptiness in his heart instead?

* * *

_**May 19**__**th**__**, 1537, Picardy, France**_

France was at war. This was of course not news as it has been ongoing for a couple of months, but what was disturbing was that Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor had just sacked Paris a few days earlier. The fate of the French royal family was still largely unknown. The news had spread like wildfire through France, and Picardy being a provenance close to Paris was in disarray for the people were in a state of panic.

Yet she could not make herself care. In fact she cared for very little these days. She still remembered that fateful day five months prior like it happened yesterday. The commotion outside her room had been cause by a group of hired mercenaries that had rescued her. She had only found out they were hired by her father after they had placed her on a boat sailing for Frances. She had fought them in the beginning, not wishing to leave her daughter and her son, but she had no choice, her fate had been sealed in England.

She did not see her father for he was busy securing an alibi for himself. The only explanation she received had been a letter addressed to her. Thomas Boleyn had explained that her death would be faked. In the eyes of England she would be gone. He had a friend in France, a man by the name of Adrien de Pisseleu, who was a noble in Picardy, France. Thomas Boleyn, in his days as the English Ambassador to France, had upon chance saved the man's life, and in return, Adrien had agreed to house Anne as his daughter. Adrien had only one daughter by the name of Anne de Pisseleu who had died of the plague the year prior. They were born in the same year and it was planned that Anne would take her place. Care had been taken into ensuring that Anne's secret would not be told. Servants who had seen the old Anne were dismissed with a hefty sum and replaced with new ones. The only old servant left were those completely loyal to Adrien de Pisseleu, and would not dare reveal their master's secrets. So in a bizarre and hardly believable turn of events, Anne Boleyn became Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly.

Picardy, was not like, Paris or London, both of majestic excellence. Life here was quieter, and after everything she had been through, it seemed like a good place to rest and to hide from her past.

She enjoyed taking strolls through the woods, a place that allowed her to think, a place that allowed her temporary relief from the painful memories. Despite her "father's" warnings about wandering out alone in times of war, she still found herself unconsciously walking here. In the center of the woods was a small clearing of green grass and a small clear pond, this was her place of Solace.

Today was no different than any other day. No different from yesterday or the day before, at least that was what she had thought. Her peaceful walk stopped in a halt as it was intruded by a man, dirty and unshaven stumbling into her view, and rabbing her arms tightly before she could run away.

Anne's screams pierced the silent woods, until he finally released her arm. She stumbled away quickly. From the corner of her eyes she saw his legs give out as he collapsed and the back of his head meeting the group in a thump.

When she was a safe distance away, her fears slowly subsided and her curiosity peaked. When she had been a little girl, her father had always scolded her for being too curious. She could hear him now, scolding her to mind her own business. She couldn't help it. This man was injured, she could see that now for there was dried blood on his cloths, and there was a sense of familiarity about him. Had she met him in her times at France before?

She inched closer to the still figure. He had lost consciousness. She stepped even closer, studying his face. It was covered in soot and dried blood. She moved down to examine his cloth. Although also covered with dirt and blood, she could still distinguish they were of very fine quality, this man was no peasant.

Her curiosity to the man's identity peaked, was he some noble man lost from Paris. She contemplated her choices, the man needed help, but she didn't who he was. For all she knew, he could be some dangerous criminal on the run, but could she really walk away from a dying man when her actions could save his life? It didn't take long for her to make up her mind.

She studied her body; there was no site of active bleeding, so she needed not to worry about that. He needed a physician though, but would she be able to find one with Picardy in such disarray? Perhaps she could rouse him, before she ran in search of a doctor. He would know that help was coming at the very least. Walking to the pond she placed her handkerchief into the cool water. Then she brought the wet handkerchief to the man, washing the dirt and blood from his face. She repeated her actions a few times, cleaning the handkerchief each time in the pond. Finally, she brought out a new handkerchief and brought the soaked cloth to the man's lips, letting the cool water slip into his mouth.

The man stirred, "more water." His voice was raspy and strained. Anne quickly repeated her actions, a few times, until the man finally opened his eyes. They locked with hers and his face evolved into confusion, "Anne Boleyn?" his voice weak.

Anne felt her heart skip a beat, fear and horror surrounding her. Her eyes took in the man again, this time, despite being unshaved, Anne finally recognized him. How could she not have recognized him, she had spent many years in his court. "No, Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly," she found herself speaking in perfect French.

King Francis I of France blinked.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

Scene written in italicized font is taken from the TUDORS.

I do realize that I took quite a lot of liberties with history, but I can't help it if people aren't born when I want them to, jk. The changes are as follows

Battle of Paris is my version of the battle of Pavia in which Frances I was captured the HRE and this would take place in 1537

Francis I of France was never captured by Charles the Holy Roman Emperor but instead gravely injured in 1537, so that means no Queen Eleanor.

Queen Claude of France died in 1532

Charles, the Duke of Orleans was born in 1531

Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly is now not a blond…lol I don't know much about her other than the fact that in history she was born in 1509 (same as Anne's age in this story) and arrived at the French court in 1522. In 1524, after the battle of Pavia, she became the official mistress of Francis I and remained his favorite until his death, obviously none of those happened in this story. Anne never went to court and never met Francis until this chapter.

Chapters are usually at least twice as long. And as always, story status is in my profile.

Please let me know what you think, click that **REVIEW **button!

Thanks for Reading,

Cruelangel


	2. Chapter 1: A matter of Politics

**Title: Nemesis**

**Author: **Cruelangel101

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...Not the characters, not the show, and certainly not the production company…can anyone own history?**

**Detailed Summary:** Starting from the scene where Anne watched her brother's execution, Anne finds herself pregnant with the King's child. They thought she was saved, but the King still enraged and determined to marry Jane Seymour, chose to believe the child was the offspring of one of the executed man. Anne's execution was determined to proceed after the birth of her child. A plot from an unexpected family member, rescued her from the tower and in the most bizarre chain of events she ended up as the Queen of France. All the while her rival Jane Seymour rises to the position of Queen of England. Her heart cold from betrayal and filled with hopes for revenge, what would the future hold? Can new warmth melt her iced heart or will past spark ignite once more? This time when two men battle for her heart, the consequence is war. (Queen of France and son after the tower ideas are hardly new to fanfic, but I would like take a new spin on it.)

**Pairings:** Anne/Francis I and Anne/Henry VIII (haven't decided on which one yet, we'll see where the story goes)

**AN:** I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed and/or favorite and/or alerted this story. Happy Reading!

To Magnific: Thomas Boleyn was speaking to Mary in Prologue.

**Nemesis…the Greek goddess of revenge…**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter One: A Matter of Politics**

_It didn't start because he loved her; it was because he needed her. His people needed a fairytale; it had been only a matter of politics._

**May 22****nd****, 1537, Picardy France**

Anne stood outside the doors and took a deep breath, steadying her pounding heart. She had been grateful when after King Francis had recognized her as Anne Boleyn, he had quickly lost consciousness once again. She had been regretting her decision in allowing him to get a good look at her ever since they had met. If he didn't believe her…she could only shudder at the thought…if he didn't believe her to be Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, then she is lost. Would he send her back to England as a peace gesture to Henry? Everyone knows that Henry had been favoring an imperial alliance over one with France since Anne Boleyn's fall from grace. Now, it was even more vital that France secures an alliance with the England. France could not afford an Anglo-imperial alliance as it could very well mean the end of France.

Three days…that was how long ago since Anne's worries had started. She could not sleep nor eat. If she was found out as Anne Boleyn, Adrien de Pisseleu, _seigneur_ d'Heilly, would lose his life. Her own father, Thomas Boleyn, her sister, the only remaining sibling she had left, her mother, her grandmother and maybe even her children would be sentenced to death for Treason, whether they were guilty or not. And she would have been at fault, not only would she have the blood of her brother on her hands, but that of the rest of her family, all because her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

Yet, it was not in her nature to leave a battered man to die on unknown land. How could she live with herself afterwards, knowing that if she had done something, anything at all, then someone would have been saved! So she had run back to the Pisseleu household, summoned servants to bring him back to the house while simultaneously dispatching servants to search for a doctor.

By the time her _father_ had come back from his fishing trip, Francis, King of France had been settled into a guest bedroom and being attended on by two doctors. He had been completely confused and slightly irritated that Anne had brought a complete stranger into their house when they both knew full well that they should be staying in the shadows because of their secret. But he was a kind man as well, despite his initial annoyance; he had allowed the man to stay, allocating servants to attend to him.

Then their next problem, the identity of the man, Adrien de Pisseleu, had never been to Court before, and thus would not have known that the man staying in his guest bedroom was the King of France! Anne, who did know of his identity could not really come out and declare his position, after all, if Adrien knew, he would be bound to treat him as his King, but then they would have to explain how he knew. The original Anne de Pisseleu had never been to court either. The Pisseleus had been invited to court once serving as companions to Louise of Savoy, the Mother of Francis I, and the duchess d'Angoulême, but the plague had broken out, and they had missed their chance. In other words, this plague had given Anne a safe retreat when she had been forced to leave England. If Anne de Pisseleu had gone to court, all those years ago, then Adrien would never have been able to pass her off as the original Anne. So she settled on another plan.

Francis had stumbled into her clearing bloody and half dead. He must have come from Paris, but in his state, there was no possible way that he had come alone, someone had to have escorted him here for although Picardy was close to Paris, it was still a good couple days of journey on a fast horse. So she could only conclude that there was a party in the woods or near it, a party that had protected the King and brought him here, perhaps even looking for him now. With this thought, she sent out servants and instructed them to look for battle worn men that were in a similar state as the man that they had brought back.

For two days, they had found no one, but on the third day, today, they did indeed find more injured men, half starved and half dead. Well perhaps, it was a bit of stretch to say that they found these men; it was more accurate to say that another party had found them and the other group. Lord Jean de Brosse had been on orders of the King to address tax revenues in the south, when Paris had been sacked. When he had heard the news he had quickly rallied a small force of about 200 men and set out to find the King. Perhaps he had been lucky, or perhaps the subjects seeing a Frenchmen, had felt a sense of brotherhood and helped to point out the general direction that the King had went.

He had arrived to the Pisseleu household with his men carrying the wounded guards of the King, looking like he had not slept for days. His demand to see the man that they had housed was met with little protest seeing that he had armed men with him. When he had been finally led to Francis's room by Adrien and saw the bandaged Francis still weak but conscious, he had ran to the King's bed side and burst into tears, dropping to one knee, and crying, "Your Majesty, thank the Lord!"

It was not surprising that with his words, Adrien de Pisseleu had nearly fallen to the ground from shock. Of all people, he had not thought it was possible that he could house a King and become his _savior_. What were the chances really! Plans were made immediately to move the King into the best room in the house, and a camp was set up for the men outside the house. And while her father was busy trying the make everything more comfortable and fit for the King, Francis had finally felt that he was well enough to talk to the woman that had _saved_ him. He had apparently not forgotten what she or better yet who she looked like.

So here she was, standing outside of Francis's new chambers, feeling like it was the last judgment. Finally, when she had worked up the courage, she knocked on the doors, and a moment later it was opened by Jean de Brosse. She gave him a smile as he ushered her inside. Francis was lying on the bed full of bandages with the covers drawn up carefully and snuggly around him. He turned his attention to Anne as he heard her footsteps, a look of intrigue on his face. Anne dropped into a low curtsey, "Your Majesty," she greeted him in flawless French.

"You may rise, My lady. I must express my sincere gratitude to you for finding me and housing me in your home." His words caused great alarm to Anne, as she made no move to rise from her curtsey. It hadn't been what he had said or how he said it, but the language he had chosen to use to converse with her. He had spoken to her in English, a language that Anne de Pisseleu would not have known, and he was well aware of that. While Anne was well educated by Adrien, French women did not usually take up English when they studied other languages _if _they studied other languages. Anne de Pisseleu had studied Italian and a little Spanish in her school years, but English had not been studied, for nobles preferred to educate their children of the languages of the continent as it was far more useful.

So Anne set her face in confusion and looked at Francis from her curtsey, not moving because Francis _had not told her she could rise_ in a language that she could _understand. _ "Your Majesty?"

Francis regarded her silently for a moment; finally he seemed to admit temporary defeat, "You may rise, my lady," this time in French. He motioned for her to take the seat beside his bed, of which she obeyed. Once she was seated, he once again began to study her face carefully in silence, making Anne fidget slightly. "You do not understand English?" his voice still full of doubt.

Anne shook her head, "My father had not hired a English tutor for me."

Francis nodded, although the suspicion in his eyes was still evident. "I don't suppose anyone has ever told you that you look quite a lot like someone else?"

Anne shook her head, "Anne Boleyn?" Francis looked rather surprised that she would have mentioned the name directly, the look of suspicion eased somewhat, "Your Majesty called me that in the woods."

Francis nodded, "Yes, do you know who she is," he paused briefly; something flickered in his eyes momentarily, "or was?"

Anne nodded, "The Queen of England," she answered without a blink of an eye, for that was who she still regarded Anne Boleyn to be.

He smiled at her, "She was, but not anymore, she was burned to death by her husband." He did not comment that more than half of Europe did not consider Anne to have ever been Queen, but Francis liked her well enough. When he had met her in Calais five years ago, he had been charmed by her. While Francis's opinion on the lady's position varied depending on what had been best for him, he had been proud that it was his court that had turned out such a cultured lady.

Anne's eyes widened fractionally. She was well aware that she had not been burned to death by Henry, her father had staged her death, but it had been under the pretenses that her enemies feared that Henry would spare her because of her son. Yet it seemed that as the news circulated Europe, people had come to the conclusion that Henry had killed her, well he would have if she had not escaped. "Do I look very similar to her?"

Francis regarded her again, and then he sighed, "You could pass as her twin."

* * *

_**May 26**__**th,**__** 1537, Picardy, France**_

His initial suspicions of her identity eased greatly since the first day. After all, it does seem far-fetched that a past Queen of England, a dead one, would be masquerading around in France, as the daughter of some minor noble. It just wouldn't make any sense; she would have been instantly recognized by anyone who had seen the grown up Anne Boleyn in Calais when she and King Henry had came to visit. The holes in her story, in her life, would be so numerous, that she could not possible even consider hiding in France. If she was alive, it would make so much more sense if she had gone to a country where she would not have been so familiar with, Spain perhaps? So the only conclusion, that he could possible reach is that they were two different and unrelated people (it was that or the two girls were actually twins separated at birth, one was adopted by Thomas Boleyn and the other by Adrien de Pisseleu, but that was even more ludicrous than her being Anne Boleyn).

So he accepted her for who she claimed to be. After all, if he really looked at her, they did not seem so similar. The Anne in Calais had been full of life and a true charmer. Yes she had not been the most beautiful woman in the world, but the way she carried herself and moved only served to draw the room's attention. He had seen such love and passion in her eyes for her then future husband, Henry of England. Anne Boleyn had captured his attention in Calais, and he had thought her stunning despite not being considered a conventional beauty. It had been her passion, her laughter, and her fine dark eyes that had hooked his desire to the point that he had even felt a twinge of jealousy towards Henry. But the Anne before him now was different; this one was almost muted, like she didn't want to be seen. She didn't smile very often, and laughed even less, but maybe that was because he had only known her for four days.

They were two different people, yet they weren't so different as well. They were both impeccably well educated, well learned in the arts. They were both extremely intelligent and witty, and occasionally, when he said something that either gained her interests or annoyed her, he would see that sparkle of passion that had been in the other Anne. Anne Boleyn had intrigued him before, and now Anne de Pisseleu did as well. He couldn't be sure if it was because she seemed liked a puzzle, a mystery, or a game to him.

While thinking about the mysteries of Lady Anne distracted him occasionally, he could not help let his thoughts wander back to the present conditions of France. He had viewed Charles V to be his enemy since they had both taken the throne all those years ago. They were obsessed with trying to outdo each other, whether it was in the Netherlands, in Navarre, or the long Italian wars. They each suffered losses, but this time, Charles had caught everyone off guard by sailing his Spanish Armada into the French coast, and marching his rather large army down to Paris. If it hadn't been the quick thinking of his guards, he would have been the Emperor's prisoner by now. He shuddered to think how absolutely embarrassing that would have been. He would have been forced into unfair treaties in exchange for his life. Then again, he was not much better off now. He had been injured in the escape from Paris, his children all lost amongst the chaos. He was still bedridden. Something good had come out of the whole sordid affair though, he knew that his subjects had enough pride to not run and reveal his path to Charles. He can also take comfort in the fact, that Charles's army needed a brief time to recover, and he seemed to have taken up lodging in Paris.

Finally, he knew who was truly loyal to him and to France. Many nobles had laid down their lives in order to protect the royal family, although some had run away with their tails behind their legs. Jean de Brosse's father, René de Brosse, Count of Penthièvre had been amongst those French heroes and to imagine, his son had came rushing back into danger! Francis felt grateful for his loyalty and promised himself that he would reward him greatly, but he hadn't been the only one. Brosse had brought back news that other nobles had began to muster forces in order to drive out the Emperor, but at times where the opposition is so greatly numbered, courage was hard to find. He needed to find a way to motivate, to inspire his subjects more.

"Your Majesty, the Lady Anne," Brosse announced to him. Although slightly startled, he did not let it show. Lady Anne did not come visit him very often, but when she did come, he found himself falling into comfortable conversation with her.

He nodded, and Brosse retrieved the lady in question. She was dressed in an elegant but simple deep forest colored dress, her hair pulled partially back and held in place with a pearl net, while the rest of her dark locks fell in curls down her back. He noted that she did not wear many jewelry, unlike the ladies of the court, probably because she did not own many. Adrien de Pisseleu was a nobleman, but he was a low ranked noble that did not have much to his name. Francis planed to rectify both in the future, as a thank you to the Pisseleu family.

Anne curtseyed respectfully when she entered, "Rise, my lady," he responded immediately.

She smiled at him, "Your Majesty, Lord Brosse's messengers came back with news about your children." There were two letters in her hands and she quickly handed them to Francis. He just stared at them silently and apprehensively. He wasn't sure that he wanted to know what the letter contained, what if he was to receive news that his children were dead. He had already lost two children in the last two years; he could not lose another one.

Anne curtseyed to excuse herself, but Francis stopped her, "Will you stay a little longer? I…" he trailed off as he looked from her to the letter and back again.

Her eyes softened, she understood why he felt so weak in this moment and nodded, taking a seat beside his bed. They chatted lightly about books and plays for awhile before Anne finally stopped their conversation, "You are now only delaying the inevitable. Whatever is in them has already happened, you cannot change them."

He knew she was right, but…he would not be able to face Claude if his children had died because he had been too weak to protect them. She handed the letters to him again. This time he took it in his hands and tore the seal off, reading each one quickly, and broke into a smile when he finished reading.

* * *

_**June 2**__**nd,**__** 1537, Picardy, France**_

In the last couple of days, the King of France's injuries healed rapidly. Finally being allowed out of bed, Francis spent much of his time outside in the gardens, breathing in the fresh air and thinking what to do next. Charles V was not going to wait forever for him to be fully recovered, or for him to summon a force great enough to fight him. The armies that France had usually kept around were mostly established near the country's borders with other countries to protect against a land invasion, but Charles had came from the sea, where he had stupidly not stationed as many forces as he should have. But that is not to say there weren't any there, Charles had just gotten lucky and slipped through the cracks. Nevertheless, for him to get to the forces would take a long journey's time and even then, he did not have enough to compete with the emperor's numbers, as they were all spread out. He needed to raise a force from his subjects, preferably from Picardy, for it is so accessible.

Today, terrible weather had stopped him from leaving the house. After a rather useless discussion with Lord Brosse three days earlier, he sent him to find the rest of his council and mobilize the French army. While Brosse became busy with the new task, he had no one to talk to and decided to wonder around the house until he had stumbled into Lady Anne. A game of chess was suggested and it quickly began. The game quickly turned into an unfair one as he easily took her one of her rooks, a bishop, a knight, and most of her pawns. He had only lost a single bishop and most of his pieces were unmoved and cluttered around his King. She was greatly outnumbered and destined to lose.

Anne however did not seem to be fazed by her disadvantage on the board, "What will you do about the Emperor's forces in Paris?" she asked. Was it concern for the French King, she didn't think so, granted, she had been very fond of his late wife, but she had never been that fond of Francis because of the way he had treated her sister. However, the emperor did cause her concern. It would be only a matter of time before he found out where Francis resided, and seeing that the King of France made no move to go anywhere, she can only believe that his lack of action will bring the Habsburg forces down on them.

Francis didn't respond immediately, she almost thought that he wouldn't, "I don't know. There are many factors to be considered. He brought with him a great army gathered from his empire, the French forces are scattered, and it will take time to gather them." He answered honestly.

His Queen took her last rook. She did not pay any mind to it, instead she moved her remaining Bishop across the board, a useless move, Francis noted, perhaps she was distracted by something. She looked at him again after her move, "There are disadvantages to large forces as well."

Francis agreed, large forces meant they were slower to mobilize and it was harder to control in precise movements. While he made his thoughts known, his Queen took another pawn. She hopped her knight to three spaces in front of and one space left of his King. "People grow lax when they think they have won, A King surrounded by so many is not necessarily safer, instead they may become his tripping stone." Anne did not claim to know anything of the art of War; it was not something she would have ever studied. However, she does know chess well, the rules are different but the basic underlying philosophy is the same.

Francis stared at the Chess board completely dumbfounded. She had checkmated him when she only had a king, a knight and a bishop left. His King had been surrounded by pawns, a rook and a knight, leaving only one space that he could move if he was placed in check. That space however was suddenly blocked by Anne's bishop, a move he had thought was useless before. He had essentially been checkmated by his own pieces because they rendered the King useless and immobile.

Lady Anne was certainly something different.

* * *

_**June 10**__**th**__**, 1537, Picardy, France**_

"My dear countrymen," Francis's voice was loud and majestic, "I come before you today, not only as your King, but as your fellow countryman as well." His left arm was still in a sling across his neck but it did nothing to hinder his appearance of authority, only serving to arouse the sympathy of his subjects.

"Charles V has greatly insulted us, insulted our great country by his reckless invasion. He has underestimated us, underestimated the great love we bare for our France. So I ask you, will you let some Spanish mongol stomp on our culture?" He paused letting this words ring in the air briefly, "His resources and supplies have been cut off, his ships sunk. He is trapped temporarily in our great Country. This is our chance, our chance to show the world what France can do. Let us show this arrogant Emperor our great French hospitality. Will you avenge the sacking of our great palaces in Paris? Will you avenge those lives that have been laid for France?"

The crowd's roared, but he could sense the slight doubt and hesitation.

Francis waited until the noise died down again. He motioned for Anne to join him on the stage. Despite her reservations, she could not refuse the King, so she made her way to his side. He took her hand into his, giving her a reassuring smile, and turned back to the crowd, "Do you know who this fair lady is?" he asked. Anne felt her brows furrow slightly, what was the King of France intent? She watched the crowd's reactions, they too were confused.

The crowd broke out in quiet murmurs, it was apparent that they did not know of Anne, Francis quieted them once more, "This is Lady Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, one of your own of the noble Picardy…" he paused as a large smile grew on his face, "She will be your future Queen." Anne's head snapped to face King Francis, complete bewilderment adorned her face, her voice completely frozen in shock. The crowd gasped in surprise as excited whispers broke out once again. The way the lady was dress showed that she was not a rich noble, and that she may be more close to the common people than the nobility. If that was the case, the King was essentially declaring a marriage to the common people. With Queen that was basically one of them, their conditions will surely improve should Francis win the war.

"Your King had been on the very brink of death. It was with this virtuous lady's bravery that I can appear before you today. She is an angel sent to help our cause. She is the savior of the crown. We cannot ask for a more wonderful and brave Queen." The crowd roared in agreement and for the first time in her life, Anne felt what it was like to be liked by the subjects of a country. No, like was the wrong word, they did not like her, they loved her. Then everything became clear. Francis had known that just fighting for their King would not be enough to instill the passion that was necessary to drive out the stronger and larger forces. He wanted to give them a more knightly cause and something that they could refuse. His promise of marriage to a low ranked noble was more of a promise for the common people. Giving them the promise that if they won, their lives would improve. It was a strategic move. There are many that would fight to the death for their country but there were far more that would fight for themselves. _It was a matter of Politics._

Francis's raised this left hand to silence the crowd again, his right still holding on to Anne's left, "I ask you, will you not fight for the protection of your Queen? For all of the gentle maiden's of France? Will you not fight to give the Queen back her rightful residence? Will you march with your King to save our dear Paris from the hands of that barbarian?"

This time, the crowd's roar was deafening. The words "For the Queen," were repeated over and over as the crowd got larger and larger.

_**Later that night…**_

She knew it was too late the second Francis had announced it to the crowd. If they win this battle, he would be obliged to marry her, and she could not refuse the King, not when she is pretending to be a subject of France. She didn't want the tears to come, but they flowed out like a river, soaking her pillow.

Was this really her fate? To escape one King only to be caught by another? She had tried so hard not to think of her past, because every time she thought about her children and Henry, her heart's wounds were torn open again. She had wanted to be strong, to show no weakness to anyone, but she couldn't help it anymore. Marriage to a King was dangerous, especially when one has a secret identity. She was afraid, but she was far more tired. She was tired of the games at court where trust and loyalty were a joke. She was tired of the back stabbing, the sly maneuvers, and the ambition of the courtiers. Politics were cold, and she didn't want to be so cold anymore.

Then there was the fact that she still considered herself to be Henry VIII's legal wife, how could she marry another in this case. Would that not be the same as declaring her own children bastards or proving to Henry that she is indeed committing adultery? But then an unforgiving voice in her mind reminded her, she wasn't that woman anymore, because Henry had wanted Anne Boleyn dead. What the King wanted the King got. But she had loved him so much, despite all the warnings her father and uncle had given her. She had thought he had loved her back equally and that their love would last all of eternity, but she had just been proven as a fool in the end. Sometimes she wondered had he ever loved her? Would he have attempted to kill her if he did? He killed her brother as well. How could she love someone who declared their child a bastard, refused to recognize the other and killed her poor innocent brother? But despite everything, she could not honestly say that she didn't love him and she hated herself for that. The thought brought another bout of sobs.

Worries of her children had plagued her mind. She longed to hear the events in England, but Picardy was not informative. Her real father had deemed it too dangerous to communicate, leaving her completely deaf of information about England since that final letter to her after leaving England. She was completely frustrated with no one to turn to.

And here, everything was spinning out of her control once again. She was meant to live out the rest of her life in obscurity, saved only because her father gained somewhat of a guilty conscience for pushing her into Henry's life. She had resigned herself to that fate, hoping that at least if she lived, she could know of her children's futures. What if she was found out because she married Francis? Would it hurt her children's future in England? Henry was a cruel man when he is angry. She couldn't help the tears at all, as all of the stress and fears and emotions that she had been repressing in the last months all came rushing back. She needed to just let the emotions out, even if it is just for a little while, before she would be forced to put on that mask again in order to protect her true identity. So she sobbed into the night.

Francis stood frozen outside of the lady's rooms. He could hear her quiet sobs, and it caused a rather foreign feeling in his chest that he didn't understand. He knew it was his fault that he had sprung this on her, causing her such distress. He had honestly thought that she wouldn't have minded. What woman wouldn't want to be Queen? Yet he had caused such heart wrenching sobs from the woman that had technically saved his life. He wanted to apologize, but he didn't think he regretted his actions and he would have done it again. He didn't love her but he liked her well enough and they got along comfortably. Most importantly, he was a King and he had to put France first. She was a subject of France, wouldn't she want France to thrive and win this battle? Or was it more than just the matter from today? She sounds so broken and desperate, had something else happened today and he reminded her of it? He wanted to comfort her, but he had a feeling she would not appreciate that right now.

Anne was a complete puzzle to him, she was like a book where you just wanted to keep reading but you could never reach the end. Every time he thought he finally understood what kind of a woman she is, she would be or do something different. He had thought she was shiny hard perfection, strong, intelligent, and flawless, but hearing her cries, he saw a venerable side of her. She too has moments of weakness. They more he gets to know her, the less of a cold and perfect projection surrounds her. She had her own flaws, a temper that could possibly match Henry of England sometimes and a sharp tongue that she occasionally will forget to hold, something that will surely make her many enemies at court. Yet it was her very flaws and venerability that made her same all the more human. She was intriguing, and to be honest, she completely and utterly fascinated him.

* * *

_**July 25**__**th**__**, 1537, Picardy, France**_

The battle for Paris led by King Francis I had been a relatively quick victory for the French but had been violent and bloody. Since his speech in the Providence of Picardy that fateful day, his army only grew with each step toward Paris. His words that day had become somewhat of a legend, spreading through France like wild fire. By the time he had reached Picardy, his initial force of three thousand had turned into fifteen thousand, not to mention the twenty thousand awaiting forces that came from the west of Paris.

The battle had taken fourteen days, with Francis's forces growing each day, until Charles V had finally surrendered on July 6th, when he had finally heard that Jean IV de Brosse, the Count of Penthièvre, had destroyed his ships. He had only one way back to Spain, and that was going west, across a majority of France, an option that had escaped him since Francis I began his campaign for Paris. He had been surrounded by the French army and secluded into Paris. But even within the walls of the city, he had not been safe. Once the subjects of France had realized their rightful King was outside the City, they had also risen against the Spanish and Italian troops, poisoning they food, taking their horses, whatever little thing they could think off against an army much better armed than they. Nevertheless, it had been helpful to lower the spirits of the Emperor's forces, a terrible disadvantage to Charles V for the moral of Francis I's army held high.

It had been amazing really. Charles V had been confident when he had decided to invade France. He had thought a quick strike against Paris would collapse the French defenses, so he had carelessly left his only way home severely under protected. His forces suffered a heavy defeat, losing approximately twenty-five thousand men. While Francis did not escape untouched, he suffered relatively smaller losses at ten thousand and that was only because most of his men had been untrained who had just joined the King.

Charles V became Francis I's prisoner in Paris, while the rest of his remaining troops was placed outside of Paris and heavily guarded. It was funny how a slight miscalculation could change some things so much. If Charles V's main troops had just reached Francis's residence a little sooner, then perhaps the captive today would be Francis instead of Charles. Similarly, if Anne had not stumbled upon Francis that day, then he might or might not have died. It was useless to dwell on what could have been.

Anne's popularity had soared in France along with the King's, despite staying behind in Picardy while the men went to fight a war. Her tale of saving Francis had spread quicker than Francis's victory at Paris. By the time the battle had finally settled, Anne's tale had somehow evolved into several quite impossible tales. One had her fighting off a mountain lion to get to Francis. Another said that she had even fought Charles V himself, taking a blow for Francis almost costing her of her own life. While yet another said she had heard the whispers of the Lord and thus was led to Francis (Anne suspected that the French rather missed their Joan of Arc). Each more outrageous than the one before, but nevertheless, each heightened her reputation, making her the heroine of France and every child's bed nighttime tale when in truth she did very little to deserve any of it. The people loved her. It had been a most strange feeling when she had first felt it that day during Francis's speech, and now she rather regretted it. The people's love would seal her in on her new fate, but she had no desire to marry Francis, King or not. Her emotions had settled since the night of the speech, and her clear logic came back.

She had seen and felt the results of marrying a King. They were fickle men, and always believing it was their right to keep mistresses even at the expense of the feeling of both the Queen and the mistress. She could never forget that her sister had been Francis's mistress when they had been in France last and he had broken her heart, calling her poor sister, his "English mare that he likes to ride so often." His vulgar words had left a scar in Mary's heart and Anne had hated him for it.

But she wasn't being fair was she? Mary had also been Henry's mistress for a while, and like with Francis, Henry had broken her heart as well. Nevertheless she had still fallen in love with the man, despite knowing she shouldn't have. She had loved and married a man who had set aside a loyal wife of many years and who had exiled a loving but stubborn daughter. Anne knew full well of the role she played in the matter. She had watched Henry force Katherine out of court for her, in fact it had been a display by her over a couple shirts that had made Henry's decision for him. She had stood by when Henry made Mary a lady to Elizabeth, refusing to meet the girl until she had signed the oath, perhaps she had even encouraged it.

As much as she would like to claim that she had regretted her decisions and her ambitions, she could not make such a claim. She could never claim that she was very fond of the Spanish princess, for Spain had been a bitter rival of France. While she had loved France, she hated the Spanish. But that did not excuse her actions. In truth she had wanted Katherine gone, refusing to share Henry with another woman. Her need and desire to be the only woman in his heart had been endearing then, but this quality of hers had turned sour in his mouth soon after their marriage. She had always viewed Katherine and Mary to be a thorn at her side. She had believed that she could only be safe if they were gone. It was ironic really. She had celebrated Katherine's death, a rather distasteful thing to do some would say (a fact that she felt she agreed with now), and thinking that with her death, no one would dare challenge her for the position of Queen. Yet as fate would have it, Katherine's death had sealed her fate. While Katherine was alive, Henry would never dare to have set Anne aside.

Katherine had once said Henry would tire of her just like he did with all the others. She had foolishly disregarded the warning then, believing it to be impossible. She laughed humorlessly now. Fate seemed to have a sense of humor, or perhaps it had been her punishment for being so proud and arrogant in her belief and faith in Henry's love. It was ironic, that she had been set aside because of the same reason that Katherine had been; only she did not have the same allies as Katherine, leaving Henry free to get rid of her as he wished. Jane Seymour had even used the same method that she had used to ensure the attention of the King. It was truly laughable.

What did she feel towards Katherine and Mary now? She would like to think that while she pitied Katherine for sharing a similar fate, she also respected her for holding on to her dignity till the very end. Then did that mean she felt apologetic? She truly did not know. She could not regret the birth of Elizabeth and her son and she would have done anything to ensure their place in the line of succession ahead of all others…she was their mother, it was expected of her. It was still something that she wanted for only as King will her son be safe and able to protect her daughter, but she could hardly ensure that now. Perhaps she should have done more so that Katherine could have lived out the rest of her life comfortably. And then there was Mary, how did she feel about Katherine's daughter? She thought once to be kind to her, but she had been refused. She didn't blame Mary for that for the girl blamed her for her mother's death. Yet Anne is realistic enough to know that Mary would have given everything to see her removed from the throne. She would have celebrated her death. Were they enemies? She didn't know. There was certainly no love between them; too much had happened between them for repair.

The birds chirped cheerfully outside her window, sparrows she recognized, a husband and a wife. They must have a simple life, no worries about getting their heads cut off by their spouse. Would she still have the same risk in France when she married Francis? While Francis did not have absolute power in France like Henry did in England, he was known to cultivate an absolute monarchy. But things were different here, she was loved by the people but their love is often fickle. Francis is not marrying her because he loved her thus she needed not to worry about losing his love. He wanted to marry her because he had need of her, but what will happen when she outlived her usefulness. Not to mention of that she had fooled the King of France into believing that she was someone else, an act of treason to be sure. Then there is only one thing to do if she wished to survive. She must always be useful to him and become powerful enough so that he could not set her aside easily. She will be forced to play the Court games that she was so tired of. And there was one thing she must always be careful of, she must never fall in love however unlikely that was now, for she had seen where it had led her.

Adrien de Pisseleu studied his "new daughter" from the doorway for some time, a letter and a large golden broach from the King of France in his hands. Anne had been in such deep thoughts that she had not noticed his presence yet.

This Anne was very different from his Anne is many ways, but he could see some similarities that offered him a little comfort. While his Anne had been fair and blond, this Anne was exotic and dark. While his Anne had been even tempered all the time with a beautiful face, this Anne was temperamental with an unconventional beauty. Both women were similar in regards that they were both well cultured and quite learned_, the most beautiful amongst the learned, and the most learned amongst the beautiful._

Yet despite having a fondness for this Anne, he could not help regretting agreeing to Thomas Boleyn's plea to house his daughter. Anne Boleyn was notorious in Europe, a woman who had driven the King of England to break away from the Church and set aside a Princess twice over. She was a woman who had been accused of witchcraft. She was a woman that had been on the very verge of death, but a twist of fate had saved her from a most unwelcome fate. Most importantly, she was a woman that attracted trouble. He had hoped she would forever be hidden in the shadows of Picardy with an eventual quiet passing, but that was not to be. King Francis had declared her to be the future Queen of Francis and the people had surprisingly accepted. He shuddered to think what would happen if her real identity came to light. Adrien was a realist and not fond of trouble.

He knocked on the open door to jolted Anne out of her thoughts immediately. She rose to greet him with a small curtsy and a "Father." He nodded in response. To be honest, he had been surprised that she would curtsey to him when she had been a Queen, but she was no longer that woman was she? She was Anne de Pisseleu, his daughter. Nevertheless in a few months, she would not have to curtsey to anyone but the King anymore, as the Queen of France. He placed the letter and broach into her hands, "It is a gift and a letter from the King."

She regarded the objects warily before nodding to him, "Thank You."

"His Majesty's page is still downstairs, you best write him a reply as soon as possible," with that said he strode out the room leaving her to read in silence.

Once she was alone, Anne studied the golden broach in her hands. It was beautiful; there was no doubt about it, a jewel fit for a queen. No one could deny that Francis had good tastes. She placed it on her reading table, took a seat, and opened the letter. It was short, no declaration of undying love like the last time she had received gifts and letters of _lies_ from another King.

_Lady Anne,_

_I hope this letter finds you in excellent health. Repairs to the Palace are nearly done, and I ask you to join us at Court at your earliest connivance to start preparations for our marriage. I hope you have found the broach acceptable to your tastes._

_Your humble servant, _

_Francis, King _

As she finished reading the letter, Anne began to drum her fingers on the table softly in thought. The resolve she had managed to build up only moments ago seemed to flicker. What should she do? She could not refuse him like she had refused Henry so many times in the past during their courtship because Francis was not blinded by love or lust for her. He would take it as a great insult to be refused, especially by his future wife. Perhaps it was the letter that made everything seem so much more real, her future danger only a finger grasp away.

Court was very dangerous; it was full of people that had known of Anne Boleyn. She had come to France in 1515 to be a lady in waiting to Queen Claude who had passed away only five years prior. Her father summoned her back to England in 1521, when she had been twelve years old. Her appearance had changed greatly since then, but Henry and she had met with Francis and a select few of his courtiers in Calais in 1532, right before her marriage to Henry. She had not changed much from then. But Francis had accepted her as Anne de Pisseleu, a woman who bore a great resemblance to Anne Boleyn, perhaps she could make the others believe as well. In addition, the battle of Paris had left many French nobles dead, leaving little who could recognize her. At least this was what she hoped. She just had to make sure she did not make the same mistakes twice.

She sighed as she felt her courage return and her doubts fade once more into the background. She picked up a quill and began to write a response. She wondered if fate was messing with her. How else could she become a Queen twice? What did the future hold?

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I know that many of you would have wanted the marriage to be for love, but I wanted to stress the difference of Anne and Francis's relationship, so it will start in the opposite direction, but fret not, for Francis will slowly fall in love. I just don't see them falling in love at first sight with so many issues going on and surrounding them. Anne's life seems completely out of her control right now, but…uh well the next chapter is call Epiphany…you guys can guess.

I also do not intend to make Francis prince Charming, because he is far from perfect. In some aspects better than Henry, and in other Henry may be better (hmm still trying to find that aspect, jk…not really). But I do like real competition, so it will only be fun if both have at least a chance with Anne.

I am aware that there are several names that are debated to be Anne's father, but since I used Adrien in chapter one, I'll just stick with it, please pardon it if it is wrong. As for Anne de Pisseleu's siblings, she had three brothers and two sisters, uhhh they no longer exist in this story.

Please let me know what you think, and **Review! **They help me write faster, its kinda funny how true that is. (This chapter would have been over 16,000 words, but I had to cut it in half.) I also welcome any suggestions you guys have, you never know what a few words can inspire!

Until next time,

Cruelangel


	3. Chapter 2: Epiphany

**Title: Nemesis**

**Author: **Cruelangel101

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...Not the characters, not the show, and certainly not the production company…can anyone own history?**

**Detailed Summary:** Starting from the scene where Anne watched her brother's execution, Anne finds herself pregnant with the King's child. They thought she was saved, but the King still enraged and determined to marry Jane Seymour, chose to believe the child was the offspring of one of the executed man. Anne's execution was determined to proceed after the birth of her child. A plot from an unexpected family member, rescued her from the tower and in the most bizarre chain of events she ended up as the Queen of France. All the while her rival Jane Seymour rises to the position of Queen of England. Her heart cold from betrayal and filled with hopes for revenge, what would the future hold? Can new warmth melt her iced heart or will past spark ignite once more? This time when two men battle for her heart, the consequence is war. (Queen of France and son after the tower ideas are hardly new to fanfic, but I would like take a new spin on it.)

**Pairings:** Anne/Francis I and Anne/Henry VIII (eh both? In some ways I guess…)

**AN:** I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed and/or favorite and/or alerted this story. Thanks to the great response, I probably updated much faster than I was going to and am usually capable of. Thanks so much! I am truly touched by the great responses. Enjoy and happy reading!

**Nemesis…the Greek goddess of revenge…**

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* * *

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**Chapter Two: Epiphany **

_Sometimes it's just a single word, an unnoticeable action, or even a simple look. A single moment where the dots are connected and the path revealed, an epiphany, forever changing the world we live in. _

_**August 10**__**th**__**, 1537, **__**Palais du Louvre**_

"Welcome to Paris, Madame," Francis spoke as he extended a hand out to Anne to help her get out of the Carriage.

She took his extended offer, and when she reached the ground, she quickly dropped into a deep curtsy, "Your Majesty."

Francis raised her up with a warm smile and a hand, "It would be our great joy if you found our Court enjoyable."

Anne nodded, "Your Majesty is too kind, I am sure I shall love it here," she replied politely, although she did not truly believe so. Court is like a battlefield, one misstep and it could be one's last. Not to mention, she had much to lose. Her dreams of seeing her children again would be destroyed.

Francis offered her his left arm as he began to lead her to what would become her temporary apartments until the wedding. They walked in relative silence as they attracted everyone they passed. The courtiers bowed to Francis while they all studied her with a critical eye, judging her and trying to find her flaws, for that was the way of life at Court. While she may have been popular with the common people she was not necessarily popular with the courtiers, it was a different playing field here, a different game. Her "birth" was not the most noble, yet the King had chosen to marry her (albeit the reason that the King had chosen to marry her was for her birth), and that was bound to incite jealousy.

Their stares however did not faze her. She had spent years in the English court where she had many enemies and everyone constantly pointed and talked about her. Her every move had been discussed and talked about then. It had bothered her there initially, but after years of it, she had become stronger and learnt to deal with it. She was used to the Court gossip so she ignored them. Instead, she chose to study the French fashion that she had been so fond of. The cloths were not too different from before, only little changes here and there. They were dressed richly, elaborately and elegantly. Her choice of attire had been a little different. She had chosen a simple but very elegant and flattering dark blue traveling dress. Her long dark hair, she had allowed to fall mostly free down her back in loose curls, a net of pearls and sparkling sapphires was weaved into the loose braids behind her head. She wore a pair of sapphire earrings that had been a gift from Francis, and a delicately crafted silver necklace studded with more sapphires. It was far from the exquisite cloths that she had grown accustomed to as the Queen of England, but then again, she had not worn those extravagant cloths for a long time. She had spent nine months in the tower wearing nothing but dark and plain gowns, and then she had arrived in France, to be the daughter of Adrien de Pisseleu. He was nobleman, but he had been far from rich. The outfit she had chosen was better suited for the persona of Anne de Pisseleu, who's more extravagant jewels, came from the King. Despite the simplicity, she wore them with confidence befitting a Queen. In a court full of more and more extravagant cloths, her attire had seemed rather refreshing. This was the other reason she had chosen them.

They walked in relative silence until they reached the suite of rooms that Francis had picked out for her. The rooms were very large and richly decorated, far better than the rooms she had had when she had been a lady in waiting to Queen Claude, but that was of course to be expected.

While she brought a few servants with her, Francis also saw to it that the palace provided amply for her. Her actual ladies in waiting were reserved for her once she became Queen. The group and their assigned positions would be decided by her before her wedding so they would be ready upon her coronation, which was only a month away.

He led her through the rooms, and into the dressing chamber. To her surprise, it was full or gorgeous, and extravagant gowns, perhaps not fit for a Queen, but certainly fit for a duchess. She blinked at the gowns in confusion, "I didn't think you would like to be shown up by the other ladies at Court," he explained with a smile.

She nodded. It was actually quite thoughtful of him. Court was a place where ladies always compared their fashions, showing off their wealth in all ways possible. Cloths were a way for them to establish their station here. While Anne's simple dress was refreshing now, the novelty would wear off quickly. If she wanted the courtiers' respect, she would have to dress befitting her station, as the future Queen of France. Her own dresses were simply not adequate, yet it seemed that Francis had thought everything though and bought them for her, "Thank you, your Majesty."

Francis chuckled, "I am unsure if they would be a perfect fit. I had asked your father to bring me, your seamstress and got your measurements from her for I wanted to surprise you. But it does not matter; you shall see the royal seamstresses now that you are here. They should be able to fit you for gowns for after your coronation. These are only temporary, and if they do not fit well, they can be altered quickly for you."

He led her to her new dressing table next. She was feeling slightly numb at his generosity and thoughtfulness, actions that was rather surprising to her. Before her eyes, he laid out the crown jewels of France, and they were magnificently stunning. Glittering and twinkling from the light that passed through the windows, "I supposed that you will need the proper accessories as well. I was told that ladies like to compare. You will be Queen soon enough, so I do not see reason to deny you of these."

Anne blinked.

* * *

_**August 12**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais du Louvre**_

One would have expected the French court to be in full celebration each day, yet that was not the case. The Battle of Paris had left many places in ruins in the great city, and while plans were already under construction, and progress has been made, not everything was restored to their original glory. There were no elaborate and exciting night activities such as dancing, feasts, or large gatherings. It was apparent the King had decided to hold off on the celebrations, until the palace would be restored to its former glory.

The Dauphin, Henri of France, was the other reason why the court was not celebrating. While he had remained unharmed and safe when he and Catherine de Medici fled Paris, he had fallen ill shortly after hearing his father had regained the city. As a result he was forced to remain in the south until his physicians deemed him safe for travel. His illness greatly affected Francis, as just in the last two years, he had lost two children, Francis III, Duke of Brittany and Dauphin of Viennois in 1536, and his favorite daughter Princess Madeleine de Valois, Queen Consort of James V of Scotland only a little more than a month prior. As he prayed for his second son, the entire Court prayed with him, for the Prince had only turned eight and ten years. But it seemed that he needed not have worried, for the physicians with the Dauphin had written to Francis two days prior stating that the worst of the Prince's illness was over and he shall soon be able to rejoin them at court.

As was expected, Francis rejoiced in the recovery of his son and heir presumptive to the throne. In his delight, he quickly summoned his remaining two children from Château de Saint-German-en-Laye to Court in order to meet their future stepmother. Princess Margaret de Valois was a pretty and petit girl of fourteen. Her brother, the handsome little Prince Charles, the Duke of Orléans was but five years of age, and his father's favorite child.

The Prince and Princess of France had arrived only two hours ago, the attendants rushing them into their chambers after they had greeted their father properly. Anne had only caught a far away glimpse of them. She was to be introduced to them during supper, and they will dine together. In all honesty, she felt very nervous for some unknown reason. She had helped set aside no past Queens this time around, so why was she worried at all? She wondered if she feared that her stepchildren would hate her like Mary did. She wanted to be a kind stepmother and not a hated one, for she was very fond of their mother, Queen Claude of France, the Duchess of Brittany. Anne had joined the Queen's household when she had first came to France in 1515 at the very young age of six while the young Queen Claude had been only fifteen years old. Anne had been more like a playmate or a real doll to the young Queen than a real lady in waiting in her younger years, but as she grew older, the Queen gave her many more duties such as serving as her English interpreter in 1521. The Queen and her sister, the Princess Rene had been very fond of Anne, and the same could be said about Anne of them. In fact, Queen Claude had even filed an official complaint when Anne had been recalled back to England in 1522, for her father no longer served as the English Ambassador to France. She had been greatly saddened to hear the news in 1532 of the wonderful Queen's death.

Anne thought to the children again. Out of all of Francis and Queen Claude's children, she had met three of them, the Dauphin Francis, the Dauphin Henri, and the Princess Madeline, all born when Anne had still been in France as a lady-in-waiting to the late Queen. While she remembered them, it was doubtful that they remembered her (well in the case of Henri, Francis and Madeline had already passed away). Princess Margaret and Prince Charles had been born after Anne's departure, and they had never had any opportunity to meet before now, even though Anne had met Francis again in Calais five years ago.

"My lady?" the voice of Jean IV de Brosse, the Count of Penthièvre brought Anne out of her thoughts.

She turned to smile at her friend, "My Lord," she replied as she nodded at him.

"The King wanted me to escort you to his chambers so that you may dine with him and the royal children." He offered his arm for her to take.

Anne stood up from the bench in the garden and brushed the invisible dirt off of her crimson dress. She managed to catch her reflection in the little pond she had been sitting by. Her hair was braided and held in an intricate S shaped spiral at the nape of her neck, with small carefully crafted golden leaves weaved throughout the braid, medium sized rubies set in delicately carved gold was strung together into a circular rope that sat gracefully at the top of her head and draped across the top of her forehead. She wore a pair of small but well made golden earrings and a necklace of large rubies and gold. For her dress she had chosen a more extravagant dress than that of the one she had arrived to the palace in, with a low neck that was not modest, but not close to scandalous. It was an outfit that was befitting of her future role and very fashionable. Anne smiled after she deemed her appearance acceptable for the occasion, and took the Count's offered arm. They made light banter till they reached the suite of rooms that belonged to the King.

The herald announced their arrival, "The Lady Anne, and Lord Brosse, Count of Penthièvre."

Upon entering the room, Anne immediately noticed that Francis and the children were already seated at the table. He smiled at her when he saw her approach and waved for her to join him by his side and dismissed Lord Brosse. Anne dropped into a low curtsy at once after she was before Francis of which he used his right arm to help her stand again, then directing her attention to the two sitting to the right side of the table, "May I introduce my son, the Prince Charles, Duke of Orleans, and my daughter, the Princess Margaret."

Anne dropped into another curtsy for the young royal children. After her wedding, their roles would be reversed, but for now, she was not yet Queen, "Your highnesses."

"My lady," Princess Margaret replied for her and her brother politely. While Prince Charles just stared at her.

As she took a seat on the left side of the table, Francis asked, "How do you find Court so far, Lady Anne? Is it to your liking?"

Anne smiled, "It is an honor to be here, Your Majesty," again more polite conversation, rather detached Anne noted. Perhaps this was how a royal family should have worked, the way that Katherine had ran her household while Anne had always strived to create a more amiable and comfortable atmosphere, but then again, she did not remember things to be like this when she had observed interactions between Queen Claude, Francis, and their children. True, granted she rarely ever saw them interact all together. She did understand why it felt strange now though. The children were meeting their new stepmother. They had not had a mother for five years, and France had not had a Queen for this long, no one really knew how to really act.

They made small talk as they ate their supper with Anne asking Margaret about her studies and interests. Margaret had warmed gradually as they realized they shared many common interests in books and in the arts. To the young princess's delight, her new would be mother was not some country bumpkin that some of her ladies had whispered about. Quite the opposite, Lady Anne was exceedingly intelligent and a well educated Renaissance woman, not unlike her favorite aunt, Marguerite de Angoulême, Queen Consort of Navarre.

Francis watched as Lady Anne conversed easily with his daughter and even drawing the little boy into their conversation, determined not to leave him out. She smiled truly and spoke with great energy, something he had not really seen before. He thought that he rather liked this side of her. Margaret had seemed to take a liking to Anne; it was not really a wonder for she was at the age when she desperately needed a mother's guidance. Charles looked like he was smitten, clinging onto Anne's every word like they were the words of Lord. It was almost funny, but it was not surprising. His mother, the Late Queen Claude had died two month after giving birth to Charles, so he had never known what it was like to have a mother and now, Lady Anne was going to offer him the opportunity. The fact that she was very nice to him and paid him a great deal of attention even though he was only five and a second prince only served to enhance her image in his eyes. It was a small wonder how Anne managed to always attract everyone's attention and charmed people when she was in the room and how she continued to be a mystery to him. He really thought of her as quite the puzzle.

* * *

_**August 15**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais du Louvre**_

"What are you reading?" Francis asked his future bride as he chanced upon her in the garden. She closed the book and handed it to him, "_The Courtier _by Castiglione," he read from the title. He had been enchanted by this book when he had brought it back from Italy after the Italian wars, "A most enjoyable and informative book, would you not agree?"

Anne nodded, "Yet perfection does not exist."

Francis smiled, "Will you accompany me for a tour of the Gardens and the trials around it? I hear that many flowers are in full bloom now, and the garden is a sight to be seen." He offered his left arm to her, in which she took.

Indeed, the King was right when he said that the gardens were a sight to be seen. This was way she spent so much time here after all. It was a brilliant use of Italian Renaissance architecture. That is not to say that Anne didn't like the English arts, her pride in her country had not been diminished simply because of what had happened. The pride in one's home country was something special; Henry was not England, no matter what her feelings are for the man…

They walked on in silence for some time. "Do you not think it is amusing how fate works?"

Anne turned to him questioning, "What do you mean, Your Majesty?"

"I had questioned your father about your life when we had first met and I thought you had been Anne Boleyn. To think we would have met in 1522, if the plague did not break out. You were supposed to be a lady in waiting to my mother." Anne nodded, while Francis continued, "You had another chance to come to court in 1525, I believe, but your husband fell ill and died shortly afterwards."

Anne nodded again. Indeed, Anne de Pisseleu had been married for a very brief time in 1525, but she had not been lucky. Her husband was frail and sickly and quickly passed away shortly after their marriage and Anne returned to her father's because her husband's family had also been a minor noble family and thus did not wish to spend the extra funds in support of a dead son's widow. No other marriages or betrothals came, and soon she had become too old to be of a desirable match. Anne thought of how different Anne de Pisseleu's fate would have been if she had arrived at court all those years ago. Perhaps she would have made a much better match.

"Fate works in mysterious ways," Francis laughed at her statement, they both knew how true that statement was.

There was another moment of silence. Until, "This used to be my mother's favorite place here," Francis spoke up again, "My father, Charles d' Orléans, Count of Angoulême died when I was only two years old. My mother was the Duchess regnant of Auvergne and Bourbon and the duchess of Nemours. She raised my sister and me by herself. In 1515, 1525 to 1526 and in 1529, she had served as regent for France in my absence. She was even the chief negotiator for several treaties."

She knew what he was implying. There were often times when Kings are led away from home because of wars and conquests, and it is during these times that they desperately needed a capable regent for their country, for they could not safely fight hundreds or thousands of miles away without the comfort of knowing that their country was at the very least safe. While Anne had never served as Regent for Henry, Katherine of Aragon had on a few occasions. Queen Claude had served as regent during the Italian wars. Isabella of Portugal, the Empress consort of Charles V, had also proved herself to be a very capable regent in her husband's absence. In fact, Isabella might have been the core of the reason that Charles had had so much success in the battle field. She was the reason why he could go from one place to another in this empire without much worry. Now, Francis was implying he desired a capable consort. She knew what he wanted; to expand his country for the power balance had shifted in Europe. This was France's opportunity, one that they may never get again, and Francis was not going to let it be passed up.

"She was a very strong woman," she concluded.

Francis nodded with a smile. He could see that Anne understood what he was saying. "You are as well." It did indeed take a strong woman who was born from low nobility to have the courage to brave the Court. Their victory in Paris had been because she had hinted it to him through their chess game. He knew from that moment on that she was not like the other ladies of her station. She had a talent that he had intent of utilizing. Claude had been a princess of France, educated since birth by her mother to be the Duchess regnant of Brittany. If it hadn't been for the salic laws that prevented females of the royal line to inherit the throne, she would have proven to be a capable Queen. Nevertheless she made a very useful Queen Consort. He had a feeling, despite Lady Anne's birth; she had a similar mind to the great female regents of the world. She was the first someone since Claude's death that could provide the back support he needed to triumph against the other European monarchs.

Adrien de Pisseleu stood behind the pillars and studied the couple. He could tell that they were not in love, but he had never heard of Monarchs marrying for love (well perhaps with the exception of Henry VIII of England, but then again, he seemed to be able to easily kill his great love, so it was doubtful the man knew how to love). The two before him though did respect each other that much he could tell. Anne Boleyn had an incredible mind, and Francis was one to recognize the talent.

He still did not feel completely comfortable with the idea of Anne Boleyn as the Queen of France. If others connected the dots and found out who she was, then it would be treason. Yet it would be wrong of him not to be grateful for what she had done for him. Because of her, the King had made him a Duke, the Duke of Étampes. He should be grateful to her, because without her he would never be able to rise this high, yet he still couldn't keep the worry out of his mind. These courtiers are never simple minded fools. Would she be strong enough, and sly enough to deal with them accordingly? He had not seen Anne deal with any courtiers other than Lord Brosse who was very fond of her, but there were a few very favored courtiers that he had heard of that still have not arrived back yet. He feared what they would bring. He could not help but think that she did not have a good history. Did she not fail in England?

* * *

_**August 18**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais du Louvre**_

"How is the chicken?" Francis, the King of France asked his future bride.

Anne took a sip of her wine, "It is delicious, Your Majesty."

"The Holy Roman Empress sent you a necklace in congratulations," he gestured to one of the servants who stepped forward and brought out a large wooden box before Anne.

She placed down her fork and opened the box with some interest. Inside was a large golden necklace set with several large glittering Emeralds. It was certainly a stunning piece, one that would have cost the Empress a fortune. It was a peace gesture, they both knew that. "I shall have to send a letter of gratitude," she remarked. While, the Empress's grand gift was largely stemmed from the fact that France still holds her husband, Anne knew that she would have sent something anyways; perhaps something not as grand as this if Charles was never in France. That fact was more than she had received before her coronation as the Queen of England. Europe did not accept her role as Queen then, so there would be no reason for them to send any polite wedding gift as was common practice. The differences between being an accepted Queen and unaccepted was great indeed.

"She wants her husband back, but she knows that it will be a long time before negotiations are settled," Francis remarked as the necklace was put away, "She has been pressuring the Pope lately. She wants him to step in and intervene for his sake."

"And what does his Holiness say?" while Anne was not catholic, and a secret sympathizer to the Protestants, but France was still officially Catholic, and she had to play the part.

"The Emperor has been growing stronger lately; the Pope views him as a threat to some degree. I do not think he would intervene."

While Charles's fate was unclear, there was another matter that bothered her, "And what of his army outside of Paris?"

The King looked slightly startled, "what do you mean?"

"They are guarded but they are still in a group together outside of Paris. What would happen if they banded once more, and attempted to rescue their sovereign lord?" she asked.

"What do you suggest?" It was a most interesting question, one that his council had also brought up a few days prior.

"The foot soldiers are useless to France. Why not ask the Empress Isabella whether she wants to buy them back? The commanding officers could be kept under arrest and scattered throughout France." She did not fear giving her opinion as she did with Henry, because she knew he wanted an honest opinion.

Francis thought in silence as they continued to eat their meal, "And if she doesn't want to buy them back?"

Anne smiled, "then it would be to our advantage still. France will treat them with kindness and when they find out their regent had abandoned them, they can become ours. If she does buy them back, it would be a hefty sum for France."

Francis smiled; it was moments like this he truly felt the necessity of an intelligent consort. What was the King of England thinking, to marry a woman who could barely write her own name! It was almost laughable.

* * *

_**August 20**__**th**__**, 1537, **__**Palais du Louvre**_

Francis moved his black bishop diagonally forward and took one of Anne's white pawns, "The English Ambassador congratulated us on behalf of his King today."

Anne's heart skipped a beat but she managed to maintain her calm demeanor, "Oh?" she arched a delicately crafted eyebrow. Since her arrival to Court, she had yet to meet the English Ambassador. She briefly wondered who it was, and if they would recognize her. Many of the Ambassadors had hurried back to their countries when Paris had been sacked, an act that Charles V had allowed because simply he did not want a diplomatic nightmare from the rest of Europe. They had only returned recently. The English ambassador had not been one of the ones that had left, for they had little to fear from the Holy Roman Emperor. Henry had started to abandon the idea of a French alliance in the last year. It was apparent that Jane and her family favored an imperial alliance. Things between the English and the Spanish were not great because of the matters regarding Mary's succession rights, but they had been better than the French relations lately.

"The English King wanted to establish an alliance with France," Francis continued as he gently tapped his finger on the table contemplating his next move. This was one of the things that had continued to surprise Anne about Francis. While he did not feel the same passion and love (to be honest Anne wondered, if Henry ever did love her) that Henry had felt for her in the beginning of their courtship, he was interested in her opinion. She had been surprised, for Francis was not trying to seduce her, they both knew that, he was not trying to win her love, yet he still was interested, he found her intriguing. She wondered if Henry would ever have been interested in her opinions if he had never found her sexually appealing in their initial meeting. But Francis was a man that admired intelligence, a true Renaissance man. He continued when he noticed she had made no move to respond. "His new interest in an alliance no doubts stems from the shift in power."

"Because you hold the _all mighty_ Holy Roman Emperor as your prisoner," she concluded for him, "He does not wish to support Charles's campaign against France because Charles has lost. It would be far more advantageous for him if he could split the spoils of Spain and the Holy Roman Empire with you." France had desperately wanted an alliance with the English before Francis recaptured Paris, but now, things were different, and they were no longer the beggars. He took her Knight with his other Bishop.

Francis nodded with a smile; he found conversing with Lady Anne to be comfortable and enjoyable. He enjoyed spending time with her, and he could tell that although she may have reservations for the marriage for whatever reason, she had found spending time with him enjoyable and comfortable as well. Lady Anne was exceedingly bright, and for someone who had never set foot at court before, she possessed a great deal of knowledge on court politics. Francis had never met a woman quite like her before. Sure, many women in France were highly cultured and intelligent, like Françoise de Foix, Comtesse de Châteaubriant, who had instantly attracted his attention when she had arrived at court all those years ago, but Lady Anne was different. While he could talk of books and music with Francoise, he never spoke about politics with her, she would not understand it, yet with Lady Anne, they had easy conversation and she had the mind of man at times. He was sure that if she had been born a man, he would have made her a most trusted advisor. Her Queen took his Bishop. "What will you do with Charles?" she asked.

Francis pondered the question, "I have not decided. He has been asking for audience with me, but I had denied his requests. I supposed I will have to meet with him at some point."

"Is he trying to negotiate his release personally now?"

Francis nodded, "There are also the envoys that his wife, Isabella of Portugal, sent. They were amicable to paying for the return of the foot soldiers, but have not given up the idea of negotiating for their Emperor as well. Charles is also getting impatient, I suppose."

"What is he offering?"

"A few lands here and there, it will increase France's territory that is to be certain, yet, I do not think he can be trusted. Nothing will stop him for denying any treaty we sign once he is safely home," he explained, "although…he offered to have his son, Philip, the Prince of Asturias come to France as a hostage instead."

Anne felt surprised, "Philip? He is Charles's only surviving son."

"But it will be far better to Charles to have a ten year old boy who cannot rule be the hostage than him. Philip is precious to him and Isabella; he would not try to do anything as long as France has him."

"Yet what is to stop him from landing another Spanish armada here? He has surprised you before; he could attempt to rescue his son once he has solidified his forces." Anne reminded him.

This time it was Francis's turn to look surprised, he had not thought of that. "Perhaps, it would be wise to make an alliance with England then," he mused as he continued to survey the Chess pieces, "At the very least, an alliance with England would mean they will not align themselves with Spain. Henry's wife is pregnant, and he has asked me to be Godfather."

Something flickered in Anne's eyes briefly, "His wife?"

Francis moved his castle forward three spaces, "Jane Seymour, they were married eleven days after the death of his second wife, Anne Boleyn. I suppose you did not hear of the news in Picardy." Francis had personally thought it had been a distasteful thing to do, some respect should be allowed for the dead.

Anne shook her head; she had not heard any news of England since her arrival to France. No one ever told her anything even though she was dying to know how her children were fairing. "When is the child due?" She forced herself to ask. The news really didn't surprise her to be honest, yet as much as she hated it, it had still hurt her.

"The Ambassador informed me it would be sometime in October or November perhaps." Anne's Queen took his second Knight a move that had caught him by surprise. This was why he enjoyed played the game with her so much. She was far better than his usual opponents and she was not afraid to win. He found it endearing.

"How are his other children viewing the marriage?" she asked.

Francis looked puzzled briefly, why did it matter how they viewed the marriage, "Well, I suppose Mary, Katherine of Aragon's daughter believes herself to be a friend of the lady and Seymour has reconciled her with her father. His other daughter…Elizabeth…I don't think she is doing too well but must be viewing her father's new wife favorably." He replied distantly as he became absorbed in the chess game once again. His bishop took another pawn.

Anne frowned, "the little girl is not doing well?" she could not keep the worried tone out of her voice.

Francis seemed startled by her sudden change, but did not pursue it, "My ambassador tells me that Henry does not acknowledge her as daughter even with her last name being Tudor. He calls her Henry Norris's bastard. Poor girl did not even have any funds to buy new cloths when she had out grown her old ones. Jane Seymour had been the one to send a bag of coins seeing as Henry blatantly refused. I suspect that the girl's grandfather is sneaking money to her now though for Henry had yelled very vocally that the girls' governess should not ask again."

During Francis's tale Anne's hands had clenched into white knuckles under the table. She hated that man. She hated him so much. She hated him for how he was treating their daughter. She hated him for believing that she would betray him for other men. She hated him for trying to kill her. She hated him for never even meeting their son. She hated him for killing her brother. She hated him for still being able to incite any feelings in her whether hate or love for they are emotions of passion. This was not a fact she could deny, at least not yet, but right at this moment, all she could see was red and she wanted to kill him, to make him feel pain a thousand times worse than he had made her and their children feel. She had never wanted revenge so very badly.

"Poor child," she forced herself to ground out after a moment of silence as she took a few deep breathes.

Francis nodded, "This was a few months ago, so I suppose conditions have improved for the child."

Anne continued to try and even out her breathing. Finally she looked at Francis again, "Will your Majesty accept his proposal to be the child's god father then?" he looked away from the game for this and found her expression unreadable.

"Should I?" he was curious to what she thought.

Anne fell silent. Should he? In regards to France, it would not hurt to make an Alliance with England, making their victory against Charles V absolute, clearing a potential enemy in their backyard while they dealt with rest of the continent. Yet, if he did, it would mean formally acknowledging the legitimacy of whore's child and thus her marriage. She did not like the idea of that. She did not want her own children to be bastards, but there was nothing she could do. She was powerless and in France. She wished more than anything that she could protect her children, but she could not make Henry legitimize them…or could she? It was then that she suddenly felt like she found a new purpose as the idea started to evolve in her mind. Perhaps this was why that God had led her path to Francis. At this moment she felt her misgivings toward her new wedding melt away. She was going to use this to her advantage, if Henry had already married, why shouldn't she? If she had helped to make Henry the most powerful man in England, then what is stopping her from making Francis the most powerful man in Europe? Power has always had a strange way of getting impossible things done. She was going to make him regret ever setting her and their children aside. She was going to make that whore regret thinking she could triumph against her. As the epiphany rolled in her mind, the spark that had left her eyes for months returned. She had found a purpose to not just survive in the French court, but also to make her children's lives better.

She gave Francis a dazzling smile, "It would be most advantages for Your Majesty to accept."

Anne's smile stunned Francis as he suddenly felt it slightly hard to breathe in the room. In that moment, her smile was only thing he saw and he thought she couldn't look more beautiful.

Many years from now, Anne would still recall this conversation to be the catalyst that had forever changed Europe for better or for worse.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Francis as the most powerful man in Europe is Anne's goal because through his power, she could be a force to be reckoned with; however, whether that could happen is to be seen (there are so many more factors to be involved, such as how strong is France military wise? How capable of a ruler Francis is? How they could balance the needs of the nobles with the needs of royalty, and so on…)

I gave Anne de Pisseleu a husband before, because it would be ridiculously weird that a 28 year old woman had never married. Besides this would explain that Francis had asked about her before so he knew she was not intended for anyone before he declared their marriage.

Historical treaties and wars, I will be taking liberties with. Jean IV de Brosse was originally Anne de Pisseleu's husband, but Anne never came to court, so they would never have met in this story line.

As for Henry and snippets of England, it will start next chapter. He is an ass, we all know that, Anne knows that, hell even Jane knows that. But the thing is, Anne _loved_ him more than anything before, for her that much passion and feelings for so long won't just be wiped away so easily. Anne loved him so much and so his betrayal was so much worse, I don't want to lessen that love by making it easily forgettable. She hates him, but there is that residual feeling that he sparks within her. I fully intend for Henry to eat his words, every single one of them that he had said about Anne and her children (he is a man that I wish to choke sometimes, sigh)

I'll probably start a poll in a few chapters to see who people like as the pairing (I think I can already tell)- But if Anne has no feelings for Henry, it won't be nearly as an interesting battle between Kings, same can be said for Francis.

This chapter is a little heavy with the Francis/Anne interactions, but I wanted them to have some time to get to know each other before others come to court (should make for some interesting battles within the French Court before, during and after the battle of the Kings.)

**Please review** and let me know what you think, they help me motivate and inspire me!

Until next time,

Cruelangel


	4. Chapter 3: The Courtiers

**Title: Nemesis**

**Author: **Cruelangel101

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...Not the characters, not the show, and certainly not the production company…can anyone own history?**

**Detailed Summary:** Starting from the scene where Anne watched her brother's execution, Anne finds herself pregnant with the King's child. They thought she was saved, but the King still enraged and determined to marry Jane Seymour, chose to believe the child was the offspring of one of the executed man. Anne's execution was determined to proceed after the birth of her child. A plot from an unexpected family member, rescued her from the tower and in the most bizarre chain of events she ended up as the Queen of France. All the while her rival Jane Seymour rises to the position of Queen of England. Her heart cold from betrayal and filled with hopes for revenge, what would the future hold? Can new warmth melt her iced heart or will past spark ignite once more? This time when two men battle for her heart, the consequence is war. (Queen of France and son after the tower ideas are hardly new to fanfic, but I would like take a new spin on it.)

**Pairings:** Anne/Francis I and Anne/Henry VIII (both in some ways)

**AN:** I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed and/or favorite and/or alerted this story. Your support has been truly touching! Happy Reading.

**Nemesis…the Greek goddess of revenge…**

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**Chapter Three: The Courtiers**

_Courtiers are beautiful creatures with many faces, but what makes them truly dangerous is their deadly mind._

_**August 25**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais **__**du Louvre**_

With the Dauphin finally back to Paris, the city was in full celebration. Courtiers that had fled the city when Paris was sacked had also fully returned. To Anne's luck, there were only two or three that had seen her before in Calais. They had looked at her in alarm, but said nothing for some reason that Anne had yet to determine.

Francis had ordered a grand feast where dancing, music, and conversations quickly covered the entire grand hall. Anne danced with Francis a few times, and another few with different courtiers. While her mood was much improved by the atmosphere and her lighter heart, she could not help but study the new ladies that had arrived at court. Amongst them was a tall slender woman with a head full of long luscious dark hair. She was an enchanting woman, one of the most beautiful women that Anne had ever seen. She watched as the woman conversed with Francis with great ease. They were very comfortable with each other.

"Françoise de Foix, Comtesse de Châteaubriant" Lord Jean IV de Brosse, Count of Penthièvre spoke from behind her, following her gaze, "Quite the beautiful lady, the prime example of intelligence and Culture."

Anne arched a brow, "Oh?" she knew perfectly well who the woman was, after all even though she had been only nine years old then, Francoise had been a central figure at court.

"The King's _maitresse en titre_," he stated with some thought. She had already known that of course, but she had not known the woman managed to keep the position for so long. Francoise had come to court in 1518, and immediately attracted the King's attention with her beauty and intelligence. She was a woman well cultured in the Renaissance arts, often writing many poems and spoke Latin and Italian fluently. After some initial resistance, she became the King's official mistress that year.

King Francis was a man educated in the Renaissance humanism, such that he valued intelligence and culture in women much more than Henry did. While Henry focused on sexual conquests, all mostly physical, Francis was attracted to the air that these women had around them. That is not to say that Francis never had mistresses for their looks and physical appeal, he had many, Mary Boleyn was one of them; however, Francoise was a prime example that Culture and Intelligence was what kept the King's attention. She had been the _maitresse en titre_ for nearly 19 years. That was longer than Anne had managed to hold onto Henry's attention, but again she reminded herself that Francis was not Henry.

"I see," there was no other response that she could make. In all honesty, she didn't really care whether Francis had a mistress or not. She knew full well that he had many when she had been at court when she was a child. She had only cared when Henry had mistresses because she had loved him and refused to share. She, however, did not love Francis. She could easily turn a blind eye. Besides, she could hardly imagine that Francis and the Court would appreciate her throwing tantrums fits of jealousy. She had lost much last time she was jealous in public, and she was not about to repeat her mistakes whether she loved the man or not. Yet, could she tolerate the woman? Her thought did not stem from jealousy, but simply that mistresses held a great deal of power, for they often had the King's ear. "The King favors her greatly?"

Lord Brosse nodded, "Yes, her elder brother the Viscount of Lautrec became the Governor of the Milanese duchy while her other two brothers hold high positions in the military." His last sentence raised alarms in Anne's mind. She could tolerate a mistress but not one who had brothers that held military positions. It was dangerous; Francoise would either be an ally or an enemy.

"She has much sway with his majesty?"

Lord Brosse tapped his chin in thought, after a moment, "How would you define sway? I have not heard of her influencing the King politically. The most she had been known to do was managed to get the King to spare one of her brothers after he lost the battle of Bicocca." He paused as if to recall something else, "Well, I suppose it is also talent to be kept around even when the King's mother, Louise de Savoy made it clear that the de Foix family displeased her."

Anne nodded. It seemed that Francis was more willing to listen to her politically and often took her advice, but that does not discount this woman. Jane Seymour had never influenced Henry politically; in fact Anne wasn't sure if the whore even had an opinion on anything, nevertheless she was someone that managed to become the Queen of England. No one would be underestimated this time.

She turned her attention to the other beautiful golden haired woman next to the Dauphin, "Who is that?" she asked.

Lord Brosse followed her vision and frowned, "Diane de Poitiers, the widowed wife of Louis de Brézé, seigneur d' Anet, who was a grandson of King Charles VII." Anne did not recognize this woman, perhaps she looked somewhat familiar. The air she had, though, did draw Anne's attention. She was dangerous, Anne could almost feel it.

"She did not remarry?" she asked in curiosity,

Brosse shook his head, "No, but there are rumors that she has become the mistress of the Dauphin."

Anne turned to look at Brosse sharply, "She is much older than him," she remarked.

Brosse nodded, "Nearly twenty years older than him, but when the Dauphin was twelve, the King had placed her in charge of teaching him court manners, and he has been in love with her ever since." Then he looked around to make sure that no one was listening, before lowering his voice more, "It is also rumored that it is because the Dauphin prefers her more that he refuses to sleep with his wife, the Dauphine Catherine de Medici. Her lack of an heir despite four years of marriage has caused great turmoil here."

Anne looked at him questioning, "What do you mean? She is only eighteen. She has plenty of time to bare him a child."

Brosse shook his head, "The King and the Dauphin are both not pleased with her. They had contracted her marriage because of the large dowry that she was supposed to bring from the Pope, but after the new Pope took his position, he refused to pay it. The King feels cheated. Not to mention, the Dauphin's previous mistress Filippa Duci is pregnant. Having proved his fertility to his father, the Dauphine is in great trouble."

Anne turned to study the young Dauphine. She was small of stature with protruding eyes. She was not beautiful like Diane de Poitiers and Francoise de Foix. She was not ugly, simply very plain looking. The Dauphine was conversing with the young Princess Margaret who at the very least seemed to be fond of her despite the negative feelings that her father and brother felt for the woman. Anne noticed that the Dauphin never spared her a look while he happily conversed with Diane de Poitiers who held his complete attention. Perhaps neither of these women were dangerous to herself while Francis was alive and she was Queen. However, when Henri became King, Diane de Poitiers would become the most powerful woman at Court, and she did not look like someone who liked to share the spot light. Anne had already caught her looking at her and Francoise several times with a look of disdain. Without a doubt, she would eliminate all the others that had taken some attention from her once the Dauphin was King. Anne was not someone that would leave a possible future exile in the road, unhindered.

Lord Brosse suddenly pulled on her sleeve, after getting her attention; he nodded in the direction of Francis, who was fast approaching them. She smiled at him and curtsied, "Your Majesty."

Francis helped her stand with his arm, "I do not believe that you have been formally introduced to be my son, the Dauphin Henri."

Anne nodded, "It would please me greatly to finally meet him and his wife."

Francis frowned as he repeated, "_His wife_." He turned to look at young girl was displeasure and she caught his eyes, her smile faltering immediately, "I suppose that you will have be introduced to _her_ as well."

Anne felt rather bad for the girl. From what she had heard about Catherine de Medici from the others, the girl had not had an easy life. Currently her biggest problem is Diane de Poitier, a woman who Anne also viewed as a potential threat. Anne briefly wondered while Francis led her to the Dauphin, that if it would be too much of a risk to join forces with the girl. She was obviously not in favor.

"Your Majesty," the Dauphin bowed while Diane curtsied. Francis nodded in acknowledgment, "Please go ask the Dauphine to join us, Lady Poitier." She obeyed.

"Your highness," Anne curtsied to the young prince, who smiled at her.

"Lady Anne," he nodded in acknowledgment, "I have heard much about you along my journey back to Paris."

"Good things, I hope," she asked with a light tone.

He laughed, "Wonderful things." Anne thought he was jolly and nice enough, but spend enough time with Diane de Poitiers, it could turn dangerous.

"Your Majesty," the soft voice of Catherine de Medici found them. Francis nodded again, "Lady Anne this is the Dauphine Catherine."

Anne gave the girl a kind smile and curtsied, "Your Highness."

Catherine smiled shyly back, "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Anne."

From the corner of her eye, Anne caught Diane de Poitier's frown, a calculating look appearing in her eyes for a brief moment, before she turned and her face suddenly morphed into a smile as she began conversing with the other courtiers. A sense of unease crept into Anne's mind; perhaps Diane could be a potential threat even now…she certainly can change faces faster than she could change jewelry, a true deadly courtier indeed.

* * *

_**August 29**__**th**__**, 1537 Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"Welcome back to court, Brother," Thomas Howard, the Duke of Norfolk told his newly arrived brother-in-law.

Thomas Boleyn, the Earl of Wiltshire smiled at the Duke, although he inwardly seethed. Before him was the man that had helped to condemn his son and daughter to death, but he could not do anything but pretend to be friendly to him if he wishes to return to the life of a courtier and politics (although if he was completely honest with himself, he would have said that he also sat by for his son's death). He inwardly scowled again at how much he has to rely on this man. If it wasn't for him, he would be forced to live out the rest of his life in disgrace at Hever. "It is good to be back," he told the Duke.

The two men walked to Boleyn's new apartment at court in full conversation as the Duke informed the previously exiled man of the happenings of court, "Queen Jane is pregnant and the King fully expects the child to be a boy." His tone indicating that should the babe be a girl…well that would be better than if the child is stillborn…

"She still remains in great favor then?" the Earl asked. There was no doubt about it as long as she was pregnant. He was more interested in if the King has begun taking mistresses.

Norfolk nodded, "Yes, her brothers have benefited greatly. Edward Seymour was made Viscount Beauchamp and Thomas Seymour was named Lord High Admiral. They had high influences at court ever since their father, John Seymour, passed away last year."

"And the King has shown no interests in other ladies? The Queen had begun her lie in from what I have heard; it would be only natural if the King takes a mistress." He dreaded calling that woman Queen, but they were in public.

"He takes many mistresses, usually women with dark hair or a sharp tongue with others, but they also bore him quickly," Norfolk explained.

Everything suddenly made sense. This was the reason that Norfolk had helped him back to court, for Thomas knew that his brother-in-law was not doing this out of the kindness of his heart. The King misses her. This was the reason why he had not forbidden Thomas from returning.

Norfolk looked at him sharply, "Make no mistake, the King becomes enraged at the mentioning of her name. No one dare brings it up, and you should do well to remember that." Thomas nodded. He knew that although he was allowed back, it was by no means an indication that he was back in favor. He had lost his position as the Lord Privy Seal at court, and the King was in no mood to appoint him any other position. He was not favored, but he was back and that was a start.

"Has the King rescheduled a time for her coronation?" the Earl of Wiltshire asked, changing the topic. Jane Seymour had married the King of England eleven days after Anne's death in the tower of London. She had been declared Queen Consort four days after her wedding to the Court but had not received a coronation so she was not yet an anointed Queen. A plague had broken out during her scheduled coronation and thus the ceremony was forcibly pulled. The King did not see a point to reschedule the event afterwards…Thomas thought it was actually amusing, if he had the courage he would probably say that it was God's way of saying she should not be Queen.

Norfolk smirked, "The King has deemed that the coronation can wait until after the _Queen_ fulfilled her duties." In other words, she had to have a son, or she would lose her position as Queen. The King no longer had the patience to receive another daughter.

"This is it," Norfolk suddenly pointed to the small set of rooms in front of them, "The King has generously allowed you to stay here. I shall leave you to rest until supper time." With that said he left without another word. Thomas Boleyn had a distinct feeling that he had just been dismissed by his one time ally that he had considered being on equal levels with.

The Earl frowned as he entered the rooms with the two servants he had brought. It was tiny. That was the only way to describe it. Barely furnished with the necessities, it was an embarrassment to live in. It was the difference between sky and ground with the rooms he had been allowed last time at Court. Courtiers were allocated rooms at Court based on whether they were favored and by their position. The King had intended to humiliate him with this, but Thomas although irritated knew he must bare it for the duration. He has great confidence that he will eventually be moved back into the grand suite of rooms that no doubt was held by the Seymours currently.

Norfolk may have brought him back because he needed more allies at Court, but Thomas came back because he had a trump card up his sleeve. Why else would he come back to the humiliation that would surely ensue? He smiled as he began to make more plans. Now if only Jane Seymour were to have a daughter or a stillborn…

He thought back to times after Anne's escape. While things were not favorable, they were certainly looking up. Anne may not have been popular as Queen, but she was viewed with much more prestige dead. Who knew that his plot to fake her death could be turned against the King? Rumors began circulating shortly after her "death" that she had been burned alive by the King. Her trumped up charges of adultery already did not sit well with the people, but to hear that a mother who had just given birth was killed so brutally…the monarchy had lost some prestige.

He did his part to circulate the rumors, quietly of course. Not many people were aware that Anne had given birth to a healthy son, and Thomas had paid a hefty sum for that to be spread throughout England portraying the child in the best possible light. He had no doubt that Anne may never become popular with the English because of her involvement in the removal of Katherine of Aragon who was very much beloved. However, once she had died, her children would be heavily looked upon as the King's children and if things worked out in his favor, they would become beloved by the people. If he could only get the King to acknowledge the boy…

His thoughts turned to the little babe back at Hever. When the child had first arrived, he had thought hard for a name. Henry would be the first option, a name that the King would surely want to name his son. But the problem was that he did not acknowledge the boy, and Thomas was not about to risk everything to name the boy Henry. He thought to name him after himself, next, but he did not know whether his future plans would be able to succeed. At that time, he had been completely banished and the future had been bleaker than now. George would probably be the name that Anne would have wanted for the little boy, but he could hardly name the boy that when his uncle had been executed on incest charges with his mother. So he finally settled on the name William. It had been his father's name, but it was most importantly a neutral name, a name that should not draw the anger of the King. He had ensured that the boy would be provided well for even if it cost him every penny he had left, because he was his last chance. His mother, William's great-grandmother was a strict but strong woman, and Thomas was sure that she would be able to take care of him. Things will be better, the future brighter, now that he was back. The King had still refused to see the boy, which was worrisome, but once he saw him, there lay his trump card. He had never been so grateful that the boy looked so much like the King. His father would not be able to deny his parentage once he laid eyes on him. But first he had other things to worry about…the Seymours. They could try and harm William if the King should show any inclination toward the boy.

No, he decided, he will not rush his plans. William's safety was his own safety, and he will do everything to ensure that. This was after all no longer a time to be taking risks.

* * *

_**August 30**__**th**__**, 1537, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"What did you say to the King, this Morning?" Edward Seymour asked his sister with a hiss. He could not believe she had been so stupid.

Jane shrunk lower into the large bed in the Queen's Chambers. Ever since they were little, she and Edward were never as close as she and Thomas, but they got along fairly well. Now, however, with Edward in favor with the King in the Privy Council, he scared her sometimes. "I didn't mean to upset him," she defended herself, "I just asked him whether he would consider restoring Princess Mary to the line of succession."

"Lady Mary," Edward Seymour corrected her automatically, "The King may have entertained you on reconciling with her, but do not be as foolish as to believe that he would be willing to legitimize her. Kings do not make mistakes and he will never admit to it." He gave her a hard look, "What did he say to you after you asked him?"

Jane knew her answer was going to upset them, "He said that I should do well to remember what happened to my predecessors, and then he stormed out," she almost whimpered at Edward's frustrated growl.

"Come Edward, don't fret so much yet. The King was just annoyed about France. You know that he would have refused Jane with sweet words if his temper has not been so short lately." Thomas Seymour tried to interject.

Edward scowled at his brother, and then his eyes softened slightly toward Jane, with a sigh, "Jane, you should just concentrate on your duty as Queen. The child in your womb must be a boy."

How could she forget that? Edward and Thomas reminded her of that every day. They had warned her that should she fail to give the King a son this time, he would discard her, but she can't believe that. He had declared his everlasting love to her. He said that he was her loyal servant and that she was Guinevere and he was her Lancelot. He loved her, didn't he? "But won't his majesty be happy with a healthy daughter followed by a son as well?" her sister, Lady Elizabeth Seymour, the Queen's Chief-lady-in-waiting asked again.

Edward sighed, "We have explained this before Elizabeth, Jane will need a boy on the first try. The King has grown impatient after his last two wives. If Jane fails, it could very well mean the end of us."

"Has anyone caught his eyes lately? Anyone that we should worry about?" asked Elizabeth.

Edward shook his head, "No one that has lasted. He has already taken several mistresses, and they all seemed to share certain traits with someone else," he nearly spat. He again gave Jane a seething look as if this was her fault. Jane looked down. She knew that her husband had taken mistresses, and she was determined to not draw attention to it. It was her duty as an obedient wife to allow her husband these liberties, a good wife would not become jealous, and Jane was determined to be a good wife to her husband. Yet, somehow, she couldn't keep the hurt out of her heart.

"The harlot is dead and of no more threat to us," Thomas Seymour reminded his brother with a roll of his eyes, "We have other alliances as well, Elizabeth is set to marry the Lord Chancellor's son. An alliance between our families would surely help. You know full well, that the reason that the Harlot lost favor so quickly was partially due to the intervention of Master Cromwell. Everyone knows that they had a falling out."

"An alliance with Cromwell is necessary, but useless if the King doesn't get what he wants," Edward laughed rather humorlessly, "As for the Harlot, she may be dead, but her bastard daughter is still alive. Her father was allowed back to court recently as well."

Thomas laughed, "You mean the disgrace that followed Thomas Boleyn here? Did you see the quarters that the King had assigned to him? It's barely fit to house servants."

"Yet he is still here and not at Hever living out the rest of his life in disgrace and exile." Edward rolled his eyes, and frowned deeply, "But there is that boy as well. The harlot's son….what if he manages to convince the King that he is his son?"

"But the King has already said that the boy was a bastard from adultery," Elizabeth exclaimed.

"He didn't declare anything. He just didn't acknowledge the boy. But imagine, if Jane failed, he would look elsewhere for a son. He no longer has the patience to wait for a son. We only have one chance, you must not fail, Jane."

Jane nodded, although she felt little confidence. But she had been a good wife to him, hadn't she? Surely god will bless her with a son, a son that will save his family.

* * *

_**September 1**__**st**__**, 1537, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

King Henry VIII let his gaze shift through the crowd. He was bored. While Jane had proved herself to him by falling pregnant quickly after their marriage, he had never been so bored of someone. He had thought she was the perfect angel, obedient and quiet, but she had no opinion over anything except Lady Mary. He had indulged her after her pregnancy and brought the girl to court after Mary had finally signed the documents that acknowledged him as the Head of the Church.

Yet just two days ago, she seemed to have gained some confidence and again asked him to restore the Lady Mary to the succession. Despite the fact that he had secretly wished that she would grow a backbone, he found that he had been more annoyed by her suggestion than happy that she had an opinion on something. He didn't even know what he wanted anymore. It was irritating beyond belief.

Despite her shortcomings at times, Jane was acting as the perfect wife, the exact opposite of someone else, someone who still made his blood boil at the thought of her, someone whose name had become taboo in the English court. Yet, he could not help but wish that sometimes she would not be such a perfect wife. Why couldn't she fight with him like her? Why couldn't she declare her love for him in front of the entire court like her? Why couldn't she hold an intelligent conversation like her? Her, her, her, she plagued his mind; no matter what he did he couldn't stop thinking about her. But she was dead, been dead for nearly eight months. Was he feeling guilty now? But why should he feel guilty, she was the one that betrayed him. She was the one that had committed treason. He shouldn't even be thinking of her at all, yet he could not stop. This thought only served to rile him more. His temper had been so apparent that his courtiers had soon learned that the very mention of her name could mean their exile.

He kept thinking of how she smiled, how she looked at him with such passion, how she made his blood boil, how she argued with him. Did he miss her? He couldn't. She was a whore that lied and betrayed him. She was dead, and it was her fault, at least that was what he told himself.

Then there was the matter of their daughter. He didn't know how he felt about their daughter, Elizabeth. He knew that she was his daughter, and he had been angry when he called her Henry Norris's bastard. He had not meant that, but he couldn't bring her to court, he couldn't face her, despite Jane's efforts to reconcile them. She looked so much like her mother, and seeing her just brought the memories that he was desperately trying to escape from.

Her son…he didn't know what to make of him. He had refused to see the boy, leaving him in his grandfather's care. He was afraid to see him, what if he looked like him. What if…he could not even entertain the thought…but…what if he was_ their_ son? It was not completely impossible as he remembered a night before he had found out her betrayal. That possibility scared him, it would mean that God had favored her enough to bless them with a son, a fact not possible if she was so vile and betrayed him so often. He couldn't think of the possibility that she had been innocent. The Jury had voted her guilty and thus she must be.

His eyes caught sight a flash of dark hair, so like hers, that his attention became immediately absorbed by the new lady in question. It has been like this for months, he would find qualities in each lady that reminded him of her. He tried to use them to fill the empty void in him, but they were not her…

Thomas Boleyn stood in the corner of the Feast, careful not to be seen by the King. He knew that the King's mood had been less than pleasant lately. His temper was worse than ever, becoming impatient at the littlest of the things. They all knew the reason, France. The French King had captured the Holy Roman Emperor, and the powers of Europe had shifted. Before France would have jumped at an alliance with England even with unfair advantages given to England, but now, they no longer needed England and were thus taking their time in their decisions. The King was irritated that France would need to debate at all, he wanted them to come crawling to him like he was their savior, but that time has passed.

France had won, and the French Ambassador who had been treated like dirt before was suddenly treated with great respect. It was how things worked after all. "How are you, My Lord," asked Jean du Bellay, the French Ambassador, as he caught sight of and approached a man absent from Court for more than a year.

Thomas shifted slightly for being caught off guard, "I am well as can be, thank you, Your Excellency." He paused very briefly, "I must offer my congratulations on King Francis's triumph against the Emperor." He took a sip of the wine in his hands

Bellay nodded, "Indeed, his Majesty is very pleased. We owe a great deal to our future Queen."

This was news to Thomas Boleyn. He had not heard much about a new French Queen, "Of which noble house is the excellent lady from?" he asked in true curiosity. Francis had just won a large victory; the European houses would be clamoring to marrying their princesses to him.

Bellay laughed, "I have not met the Lady, but I shall very soon as my King has recalled me back to France. I hear great things about her though, a very well educated and cultured lady, and the people love her. Her name is Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly, the only daughter of Adrien de Pisseleu, the Duke of Étampes."

Thomas Boleyn. The Earl of Wiltshire, was in the midst of taking another sip from his wine goblet when he heard the Ambassador's last sentence, and nearly choked. He hadn't heard right had he? Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly? But that was…that was the name that…but Adrien would have…Anne would have…but that was impossible…his thoughts became completely incoherent as his mind struggled to grasp the information. It was simply impossible. The risks...why….he felt rather faint at this point.

* * *

_**September 2**__**nd**__**, 1537, Palais de Louvre, France**_

"Lady Diane de Poitiers and you seem to have some tension," Anne looked up in surprise at the King of France's words. She and the lady in question have not had any interaction since that night at the feast, so he would only know if he had been observing them then. It was surprising to say the least because Anne had thought Francis's attention had solely been focused on Francoise.

"I do not think she finds me pleasing," she replied in honesty. There was no point in hiding it. She nibbled on a piece of chicken. They often shared their meals together.

Francis nodded, "Henri prefers her wholeheartedly; she has great deal of influence over him." Anne looked at Francis with confusion for a split second. From his tone, he was warning her. Was he concerned for her? He was inadvertently telling her that should something happen to him; Diane would have power over her. She nodded mutely.

Seeing that she understood his message, he dropped the subject, confident that the lady he had gotten to know well these past couple of weeks would be able to hold her own. He took a sip of his wine, "The English Ambassador has come to ask for another audience, this time with another Envoy with him. He is receiving much pressure from his King."

"Your Majesty has not decided whether to accept the position of Godfather?" asked Anne. She had finally found out who the Ambassador was, Sir Nicholas Wotton. He was someone that she had not seen much at all in England, a fact that she was grateful for. But the Envoy that Henry had sent, he had served as ambassador before Wotton. She knew exactly who he was and she was avoiding him like the Plague.

"My Ambassador tells me that should Jane Seymour fail to provide a son, she will lose favor with the English King. I do not believe it wise to enter an alliance based on a potential son. I would like to see solid evidence that she will remain as Queen before acknowledging her." Francis spoke freely, "But they want an answer."

Anne nodded, she hated the idea of Jane Seymour having a son when her own is living in exile with his grandfather, but she could not help laughing inside at the pressure that the whore must be feeling now, "Securing an alliance with the English now while France is strong would be ideal, but Your Majesty's concern is valid. Perhaps, an alliance could be formed without Your Majesty needing to acknowledge the child. We can wait until after the birth of the child for that."

Francis nodded that was what he had been thinking as well, another idea was a marriage alliance, but Henry had no legitimate heirs to offer in marriage. If his daughter, Elizabeth had not been declared a bastard, perhaps she could have married Charles, a suggestion that he had refused before when he did not want to openly acknowledge Anne Boleyn's position against the Church and the rest of Europe.

"Would you like to join me for the meeting with the English Ambassadors?" he asked his future wife curiously. He wasn't testing her answer, but truly asking. She had a keen mind that he valued. Although Anne was probably born of the same station as Jane Seymour, she was not the uneducated country girl that the English Queen was. He rather took pride in Anne, and he wanted to show her off to them. To show them what culture and elegance France can turn out, while under the same conditions the English could not.

Anne blinked. Seeing Sir Wotton was not a problem, but the other man was a great problem. Granted, they would eventually see her for her coronation and wedding, if they are still in France, but that was something to worry about later. She shook her head, "I best not attend. I am simply a daughter of a Duke currently, and I do not want to take any attention away from the subject of discussion."

Francis was quiet for a moment, and Anne briefly wondered if he suspected something, but to her great relief, he nodded eventually and dropped the subject all together. Giving her a smile and started to speak about his children.

* * *

_**September 3**__**rd**__**, 1537, Palais de Louvre, France**_

Françoise de Foix, Comtesse de Châteaubriant, smiled as she linked arms with the King of France for a stroll through the gardens. They had seen each other often since her return but she could detect a difference in the King, a difference perhaps he had not even noticed. Was it because of Lady Anne?

Her brothers had told her that the King greatly favors the advice that the Lady gives, talking about political things with her, an act that he had never done with her. She would not have been concerned with this fact, for he had talked to Queen Claude about Politics before as well, but he seemed to rely a great deal more on Lady Anne than he did with Queen Claude. The most concerning thing was she had seen the look he gives the lady. It wasn't always there, but whenever she smiles or her eyes lit up, his eyes will as well. It was worrisome to say the least.

While the King greatly respected the late Queen, he had never loved her like a man would love a woman. She can see that he did not love Lady Anne, at least not yet, but…she sighed with her conclusion…it was only a matter of time. Lady Anne was well educated and cultured, everything that Francis saw in her and more, so if Francis fell for the lady, what use would he have for herself anymore? Her only chance would be to drive something between them before that happens.

"Are you pleased with your upcoming marriage?" asked Francoise softly.

Francis turned to look at her, but they didn't stop walking, "Lady Anne is most fascinating, and she will make a good Queen for France."

"Her birth does not concern you at all?" asked Francoise.

"Her birth was the reason that I had chosen her in the first place," he didn't like to explain politics to Francoise; she was not well suited for that mind set.

She nodded, "But does it not concern you that she may be using you? She had risen from a country girl to the Queen of France." She pressed.

Francis stopped their stroll, and narrowed his eyes at his mistress, "She saved my life, Francoise, and she did not seduce me into marrying her," his eyes softened slightly at her expression of slight fear at his retort, "I know you are concerned for me, but do not meddle in things you do not understand. I have told you this before." She nodded, indeed every time her brothers had wanted her to sway the King's opinion on something politically in the past, he told her the same thing. Yet why did she get the feeling that it wasn't purely political this time.

* * *

_**September 7**__**th**__**, 1537, Hatfield, England**_

For more than a year, she knew things were different, the ladies never called her Princess anymore, and instead they referred to her as a bastard. No one would explain what a bastard was or why she wasn't a princess anymore. Her mama never came to visit her either and her ladies had told her that her mama was not a part of the world anymore; because she had done something very wicked. Elizabeth didn't think her mama could do anything wicked. She never got the pretty dresses she used to get, or the nice presents. Her papa never visited her either. She hadn't seen her papa since that time in the gardens, when he had been very angry at her mama. Her mama had cried that time and Elizabeth had been terrified.

It was her birthday today and she was turning four this year. She wondered if anyone would come to see her this time. No one had come to her third birthday, but she had her sister Mary then. Now even Mary has gone to see their Papa, but her Papa didn't want her. Lady Bryan had said so. But why didn't he want her anymore?

"Lady Elizabeth," she turned her head to face her governess.

"The Lady Mary is here to see you," Lady Bryan told the little girl and watch as her sad face turned into a smile.

Mary smiled, as the little girl dropped all court protocols and ran into her awaiting arms the second she saw her. Elizabeth was special to her; she had helped to raise her since she was a babe. She can't deny that she had rejoiced when the Harlot had lost favor and was gone from court. She had been happy that the Harlot had died; it was a worthy punishment for what she did to her mother, blood for blood. It was satisfying to hear to be sure, but when she caught sight of Elizabeth's face, she couldn't help but wish that Elizabeth would have at least gotten to say goodbye unlike Mary. She truly did hate Anne Boleyn, but that hate didn't direct to her sister because they were sisters, blood linked them together.

She smiled as she pulled out a small locket that she had commissioned for the little girl paid with the allowance that she had received from her father when they had reconciled. She placed the necklace around Elizabeth's neck, smiling as the little girl's eyes brightened, "Happy Birthday, Elizabeth."

* * *

_**September 7**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais de Louvre, France**_

"Thank you," she told the gold smith as she handed him a bag of coins for the trinket in her hands. It was an absolutely stunning, relatively small but intricately craved out golden necklace that was studded with an array of different sized rubies. This was a present for her little Elizabeth, but she would have no way of giving it to her. Maybe if Elizabeth had still been the Princess of England, she would be able to give her the necklace on excuse of diplomatic reasons, but she wasn't.

When Anne was finally left alone in the silent room, she fingered the small object in her hand and her heart clinched. Her poor Elizabeth, her little daughter, she could still almost feel the last time she had held her in her arms. Her warmth, and her small arms encircled around Anne's neck, she had been so small then. She wondered if she had gotten taller. Did she still have that head full of blond hair? George had speculated that little Elizabeth's hair would turn red in the future.

Anne couldn't help but choked back a sob. Tears filled her eyes, but she struggled to keep them at bay, one drop, two drops, three drops, the tears rolled onto her blue with black accent gown. What was Elizabeth life like now? How would she be treated? She knew how Henry treated his bastard daughter Mary, would she have to wait on that whore's child now? Did Henry realize his mistake yet? How could he call their daughter Henry Norris's daughter? She had a million questions but no one to ask.

Would she remember how much her mother had loved her? Would she know that Anne would rather have died if her children's positions would have remained safe? Did she meet her brother yet? Did she like her brother? Was she jealous of her little brother like normal siblings? Would they play together? Four drops, five drops, six drops, the tears continued to roll down her lashes and spotting her dress.

Did Elizabeth remember her at all? She hadn't even gotten to see her son. He wouldn't know her. He wouldn't know how much she loved them both. She didn't even know what her father had named her son! What would they know of her as they grew? What would others tell them about her? Anne clutched the necklace to her heart as she leaned forward using her left arm to support herself in the chair, she couldn't choke back the ensuing sobs and thoughts. What if they believed what they were told? Would they think of her as a whore? Or a Witch? Would they be ashamed of her having only others' words to believe? Would they grow up hating her? She didn't think she could bare that thought, but her plans needed time to come to fruition, if she rushed it or became impatient, then they are all lost. There was nothing she could do but be patient, but waiting and these idle times are when her heart hurts the most.

* * *

**Author's Notes :**

I ended this chapter kind of sad, because well, it was getting too long, so I cut it off and ended here. I mean what mother wouldn't be sad on their child's birthday and they would not be able to see them…plus the sadder she is, the more determined she will be.

I never understood how Anne lost to Jane, a woman who was completely uneducated and lacked an opinion on most matters. So I'm giving Anne opponents of her level. Catherine de Medici, Diane de Poitiers, and Francoise de Foix (whether allies or enemies, who is which is undecided-they will probably switch back and forth) were very intelligent women who later held a lot of power in history (with the exception of Foix). Historically, Foix had put up a fight with Anne de Pisseleu for the position of official mistress (she would not have been replaced in 1526 if it hadn't been for Anne), and Poitiers was a competitor that had eventually sent Anne de Pisseleu into exile. Catherine de Medici would rule France on behalf of her young sons and was known for her ruthlessness. They are true adversaries, and worthy of Anne's time to conquer. It simply won't be satisfying to beat a woman who has such a simple mind. Anne can't always have smooth sailing in France, how boring would that be.

I will also try very hard not to let my dislike of Jane effect the story, because let's be honest, Jane of season three was much better than the one in season two. I wanted to constantly throttle the one in season two, not so much in three. Doesn't mean Anne likes her though.

I was going to crown Anne this chapter, but I wanted to fully set up the courtiers of France first, so next chapter she is Queen. I figured if I calm myself from rushing the quality of work would be better. So only little scenes with Anne and Francis, since England took half the chapter (I did push back the Pilgrimage Grace-but the idea of monarchy losing some prestige over Anne's death is established - there were people executed in there that I need).

Please **Review**, and let me know what you think. School is starting back up soon, so I'm not sure how fast I can update…I could probably get another chapter out before the end of the week…afterwards maybe once a week, but you guys keep the story on my mind and agenda.

Thanks for reading and until next time,

Cruelangel


	5. Chapter 4: The Queen

**Title: Nemesis**

**Author: **Cruelangel101

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...Not the characters, not the show, and certainly not the production company…can anyone own history?**

**Detailed Summary:** Starting from the scene where Anne watched her brother's execution, Anne finds herself pregnant with the King's child. They thought she was saved, but the King still enraged and determined to marry Jane Seymour, chose to believe the child was the offspring of one of the executed man. Anne's execution was determined to proceed after the birth of her child. A plot from an unexpected family member, rescued her from the tower and in the most bizarre chain of events she ended up as the Queen of France. All the while her rival Jane Seymour rises to the position of Queen of England. Her heart cold from betrayal and filled with hopes for revenge, what would the future hold? Can new warmth melt her iced heart or will past spark ignite once more? This time when two men battle for her heart, the consequence is war. (Queen of France and son after the tower ideas are hardly new to fanfic, but I would like take a new spin on it.)

**Pairings:** Anne/Francis I and Anne/Henry VIII (both in some ways)

**AN:** I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed and/or favorite and/or alerted this story. The support has been very touching!

**AN 2:** Anne de Montmorency (I don't really understand how a man has the same name but oh well) will be generally referred to Montmorency, while Anne Boleyn will be the Anne.

**Nemesis…the Greek goddess of revenge…**

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* * *

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**Chapter Four: The Queen**

_What makes a Queen? Being the wife of a King? Or rather, being a woman of intelligence and culture but most importantly strength and character, a woman fit to rule?_

_**September 8**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais de Louvre, France**_

"You are suggesting that we give Empress Isabella her husband back as a peace gesture?" there was a slightly dangerous undertone to the King's voice, even though he did not seem to be fazed from his card game with the Lady Anne de Pisseleu d'Heilly.

"It would be most advisable to do so, Your Majesty," Anne de Montmorency, the Marshal of France replied evenly, he was a solider and a politician, a seasoned courtier, he knew what his King wanted, but he was a loyal Frenchmen as well, France was not strong enough to do what the King wanted, "The Holy Roman Empire might have temporarily lost its emperor, but they are far from being consumed by chaos. The Empress Isabella is more than capable to serve as regent for the Emperor. Their troops also far outnumber our troops and they are better trained. Should the empire decide that they would rather risk the Emperor's life than suffer to demands at unacceptable terms, France would be in danger once again. I beg your Majesty to consider an Imperial alliance instead."

Francis still did not look at his much favored courtier, but by now his frown was clearly evident, "France has captured the Emperor, I dare say that our forces are stronger than theirs," he replied with a scowl, clearly not willing to believe that anything of Emperor Charles V was better than his.

Anne listened to the conversation with interest. Anne de Montmorency was a devote Catholic that also had a rather brilliant military mind. He became the marshal of France after several decisive victories for Francis. He had long since become a powerful man at court. He was dangerous in more than one way for he was a great friend of Diane de Poitier and one of the courtiers she had met in Calais. They also had very different opinions on foreign policy. While Montmorency desired an imperial alliance and safety for the realm, Anne desired an English alliance because she wanted to push France into the forefront of European power. An alliance with the Emperor will not increase France's power only perhaps guaranteeing peace for several years and thus certainly no help to her goals. She would much rather risk the dangers, a gamble, for there cannot be gain if one is not first willing to accept the losses.

These accumulations of differences between the two of them were certainly alarming. Had she not learned from the past that alienating a powerful and favored man of the King was not the best idea? She had alienated Cromwell because of their differences, and look where she had ended up. There was only two ways to deal with these enemies. One is to befriend them, compromising her own ideals to keep them happy, and the other to utterly destroy them. Anne wondered what would be the best approach to take against Montmorency. She certainly did not desire to compromise her goals, that was not a possibility, but Montmorency was a talented military commander that may be of good use later.

"Your Majesty, our forces were brave during the battle of Paris, but…" Francis raised a hand and silenced him.

Instead Francis turned to Anne, "What do you think of the matter?"

Although he often asked her opinion in private, Anne was still a little surprised that he still asked for her thoughts in front of one of his official advisors. Nevertheless, Anne was not one to pass down a chance to sway Francis to her side, "The Empress may have the resources to attack France, but it would be a worthy gamble to bet that she would not. She would proceed cautiously until she is left with no other choice. As long as we dangle the possibility of an alliance in front of her, she would not attack France."

Montmorency snorted softly, careful not to show any obvious sign of disrespect to his King, "That gamble could very possibly cost France everything. What if the elector states of the empire elected a new emperor? Then the Emperor we have would be completely useless. Not to mention the possible diplomatic nightmare that would ensure should Charles V pass away in France. It would give the Empire the perfect excuse to invade France."

Anne arched a brow, "nothing ventured, nothing gained." Deep in her mind, she knew that the Marshal had a point, but she just couldn't let go of the idea of pushing France into the pinnacle of power in the shortest amount of time possible.

Francis laughed, "Indeed, nothing ventured, nothing gained," he repeated, clearly favoring Anne's opinion in the matter.

The Marshal of France sighed, he could see that the argument was temporarily over, but he was not one to give up. Victory may have gone to the King's head, not that he would ever dare to say that out loud. This future Queen did nothing to help the situation, only adding fuel to the fire. No wonder she was from the country, such short sightedness! To think the King actually valued her opinion! It was insulting.

* * *

_**September 10**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais de Louvre, France**_

The Marshal's words played over and over in her mind in the last few days. She could not shake the feeling that he had point. The more she thought about it, the more she felt less inclined to let her emotions influence her. She wanted to carry out her plans badly, but if France was lost, then everything was lost. Yet she still did not completely agree with the Marshal. He was in the opinion of treating the situation like the battle of Paris never happened. That was a waste of an opportunity.

"What's on your mind?" King Francis asked his betrothed.

Anne snapped her attention back to the man walking beside her, and sighed, "Lord Montmorency," she replied.

Francis raised his brows in surprise, "What about him?"

Anne stopped walking as she turned to face Francis, withdrawing her arm from his, "He reminded me that rushing things may result in the ruin of everything."

"What do you suggest then? An alliance with the Hapsburg then" He didn't particularly like that idea.

Anne shook her head, "Not necessarily, but caution should be used. We need to build up our resources before France can attempt anything. The Imperial army is large and well trained, thus we should recruit and train as well especially now when national pride is high."

Francis nodded, "I will think about it," he offered his arm to her again which she took and they picked up their stroll once again, "Is your dress ready?"

Anne nodded, the wedding was three days away, but the dress had only recently arrived. Nevertheless, it was certainly worth the wait as it was stunning, putting her wedding dress with Henry to shame. Although, granted her wedding dress then hadn't been too extravagant to start with.

He smiled, "Did you pick out your ladies yet?"

Anne nodded, "Yes, I don't know much about them, but I have heard good things about their families." The art of selecting ladies in waiting was rather complicated. It was another game of politics, a way of granting favors and courting alliances.

"You should feel comfortable with them, if they displease you, then dismiss them, no matter who they are. It will be your right as queen." Francis told her.

Anne laughed humorlessly, she couldn't help it, and instantly regretted it, but eventually decided to be truthful, "Some of these ladies have powerful backgrounds, and it would not do for me to dismiss them casually."

Francis laughed, "But you will be the Queen of France. Their powerful families will always be below you. Worry not about them," his expression turned more serious, "Play the games of Court, but these ladies are going to be your closest companions. If you can't trust them, then it is more dangerous to keep them around." This time he stopped walking as he turned, taking Anne's hand in his, "You have every right to dismiss anyone from your service, Anne."

Anne blinked as Francis's eyes bore into her eyes. He was warning her of the dangers of keeping enemies too close. Stepping to close to the fire might get her burned. Had she not learned of this last time as well? Those ladies that had hated her in England were the ones to deliver crushing testimonies against her. His other meaning was not lost on her either. He had given her permission to dismiss Francoise if she displeased her. Had the lady done something to displease him? She also did not miss the fact that he had called her Anne instead of Lady Anne. She was not blind, the dynamic between the two of them were changing. She had ignored it at first, deeming it impossible, but the more she observed and reflected on their interactions, the more it seemed to be apparent. It was something that Anne wondered if she could use to her advantage.

Francis had been rather surprised by his own words. Anne was a brilliant woman and she would not miss the implications of his words. He didn't know if he meant it when he said that she could dismiss even Francoise, but surprisingly, as he thought about it, he did not mind if she did as long as she had a reason. He would not be ready to dismiss Francoise from court if that were to happen, but he did not want Anne to feel uncomfortable with his mistress. He could not figure out why he cared though.

* * *

_**September**__**15**__**th**__**, 1537, Saint Germain-en-Laye, France**_

The crowd that had greeted her outside of Palais de Louvre had been enormous; almost everyone from Paris and the surrounding area came to see the wedding of their new Queen. Her wedding to Henry had been a quiet affair, attended by just a handful of people. It had been a secret, because his marriage to Katherine hadn't been annulled yet, but they couldn't wait any longer at the time, because she had been pregnant with Elizabeth. They could not afford for people to say that Elizabeth had been a bastard, a pointless action now that she looked back on it.

Her coronation in England had been cold. The people didn't want her then. There had barely been anyone there in the streets. Even of the ones there, no one had cheered, no one had yelled God bless the Queen. Someone had even tried to kill her that day, but luckily they had missed, hitting an attendant behind her instead. All of these were not matters to be worried of today. Instead, today she was loved; the royal guards had an extremely difficult time keeping the crowd back so that Francis's and her carriage could pass through easily to the Church.

Her wedding dress was grand as Francis had spared no expenses. He was known to be an extravagant King and today was no different. He intended for his bride to look every inch a Queen. Her white gown, without her baby bump like last time, hugged her body snuggly. The gown was tastefully low necked. Diamonds and pearls were scattered throughout her bodice in intricate designs. The skirt of the gown had several layers of laced design and held a long train. Her long dark hair was made into several braids that twisted into each other and held into a loose bun at the base of her neck. Diamonds were carefully sewn throughout her hair, held there with thin golden threads; it made it seemed like she had stars sprinkled into her hair. More diamonds were netted together by golden thread into a thick circular band that rested on top of her head almost like a crown, the most forward draping across the top of her forehead.

She rode to the Royal Church, Saint Germain-en-Laye in a carriage with Francis besides her. The entire procession took a full three hours; the trip had been incredibly slow due to the crowd. She smiled at them, as she and Francis waved. At the sight of her, the roar of approval and cheers thundered throughout the city. They had not forgotten that she had once given them hope; she had been the cause of their rousing pride. The sight had left Anne breathless.

She felt as if she was in trance for the rest of the wedding, her emotions on mute. She vaguely remembered saying her vows in front of the cardinal. Before she knew it she and Francis had been declared husband and wife. She couldn't help but feel that everything was surreal now that everything was actually happening. She didn't think she was happy about the wedding, but she didn't hate the idea either. She didn't love Francis, and he…well he may be feeling something for her. She could see it in his eyes, when he looked at her, especially when he said his vows.

With the Cardinal's declaration, Francis took her hands in his brought his lips to hers. The action caught her slightly off guard. Yes this was something that was completely normal during weddings, but this was also their first kiss. This was the first time she had kissed another man since she had fallen in love with Henry. It felt strange…it wasn't passionate like her relationship with Henry had been; instead it was soft and completely foreign to her. With Henry, it was almost a battle for dominance when they kissed, but now it was…more like mutual acceptance.

* * *

_**September 16**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais de Louvre, France**_

There had been one thing that she had refused to think about since she had accepted Francis's proposal: the wedding night. It would be expected of her to perform her duties as a wife, but she wasn't sure if she was ready. Could she bed a man that she did not love? She married him didn't she?

She berated her nerves. Many people married complete strangers and carried on perfectly normal interactions between husband and wife. Love matches were rare, especially at court. So if others could do it, why should she not be able to as well? She imagined that it would just be like when her sister married Lord Carrey, or when George married that vile woman. Most importantly, it would not do for her to cause suspicion from Francis. She was his wife now, and she was expected to act like it.

So with those thoughts in mind, she had prepared herself last night. Francis had been surprisingly gentle. Once again the experience was foreign. A part of her felt like she had betrayed Henry, but that was ridiculous, the man had tried to execute her and declared their marriage invalid. Henry was_ married_; he was even expecting a new child with his whore of a wife. This thought had brought out the vindictive feeling in her. She could also not help but feel like that she was giving Henry a taste of his own medicine…almost as if she was spiting him. Then she felt rather angry, it was her wedding night, yet she couldn't stop thinking about him. She sighed in her mind, perhaps she just needed more time.

Francis watched his wife pretend to be asleep. He had always been an observant man, noticing the slightest of details even if he said nothing. He could see that she was thinking, and perhaps wanted to avoid an awkward greeting to each other after their wedding night. Their night had brought up confusing feelings. He could perceive that she had been slightly uncomfortable with him, as most brides are with their new husbands. He could see that perhaps she had not liked the idea of their union, but they were husband and wife, it was their duty to carry out certain acts once they were married. Yet why on earth did he feel the need to apologize to her for making her uncomfortable? Why did he care whether she enjoyed it as much as he did? Why did he care about her feelings in the matter? These thoughts were new to him and puzzled him greatly. Just what was she to him? A political tool? An advisor? A friend? Or someone to love?

* * *

_**September 19**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais de Louvre, France**_

Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, special Envoy of the King of England, felt his heart nearly jump out of his throat at the sight of the _Queen_ that had been crowned today. He had missed the wedding because of simple bad luck. When he had arrived at the French court to set up an alliance with King Francis, they had failed to bring a proper gift for the new Queen. Nevertheless, Cromwell was not someone who would miss such details as this especially when things are so delicate between the countries now. A messenger had been sent to deliver wedding gifts to both King Francis and Queen Anne, and Charles had rode to the Sea Port with his men to ensure the safe deliver of the treasures. They originally had plenty of time to return before the wedding, but bad luck in the form of large storm delayed their journey for several days. He and his company had only made it back to Palais de Louvre the day prior, in the neck of time for the Queen's coronation.

Traditionally, the King of France was usually crowned by the archbishop at the Notre-Dame de Reims while the Queens are either crowned with their husbands, or in the Cathédrale royale de Saint-Denis. The Cathédrale royale de Saint-Denis was a stunning church in the city of Paris, and Charles thought all the inhabitants of the city had come out to see the royal carriage. They were lucky that no one was crushed to death by the enormous crowd that thundered the phrase "Long live the Queen." Her popularity in France had stunned the Duke. His own late Queen, Katherine of Aragon had been very popular in England, but even she could not compare to the popularity that this Queen Anne seemed to possess. The other two "Queens" of England did not enjoin even the popularity that Queen Katherine had enjoyed. The _mistress_ Boleyn's coronation had been deathly quiet. Queen Jane had never had a coronation. Thus the sight of so much pride in the new royal couple, was surprising indeed.

His position at the coronation had not been too close to the lady crowned as Queen Anne, but how many times had he seen her face in England. Even from that distance, there was no mistake of who she was, or appeared to look like. His world had almost tilted when he had caught sight of her, desperately wishing that he had only been confused by the distance. Now, at the grand feast that she was presiding over, he could observe her face from only feet away. The way she sat, the way she carried herself. He could no longer remain in denial, they were identical. The thought and implication terrified him.

Yet…how could that be? King Francis had seen her in Calais. He would never marry the mistress of another King, even if he wanted to taunt said King, it simply would not do for the King of France to take the cast off of another King. But no matter how much he wanted to deny it, Charles Brandon could not deny that this woman who sat in the throne in front of him was the exact replica of Anne Boleyn, and dare he think that she may be her? If it was her, did she manage to fool King Francis? Charles Brandon had known Anne for years, but King Francis had only known the adult Anne for several days. It was not impossible that Francis had been confused.

Anne, Queen of France, dressed in a rich purple gown, with a large golden tiara studded with diamonds on her head, observed the pensive Special Envoy of King Henry quietly. She felt less confident than she appeared, but she had prepared herself for this meeting since the day she had found out who the Envoy was. "Your Excellency?" she asked him in perfect French. He had been the one that had asked for an audience with her, and allowing him too much time to gather his thoughts may not bode well for her.

Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, blinked at the words. There was no accent in them, not like his own French, but Anne Boleyn had grown up in France so it would not be surprising that her French was excellent. "On behalf of my King, I would like to present a gift to Your Majesty," he chose to speak in English.

Anne was careful not to show understanding in her face, and no confusion for that would be overdoing the act. Instead she turned her head to one of her lady-in-waitings standing nearby, her official English translator, expectantly. Her lady quickly translated his sentence. Anne turned back to the confused looking Duke and spoke in French again, "You may present it," she nodded to him.

He didn't know if she was just a good actress or…but hadn't she always been a good actress. He motioned for the servant behind him to step up with the large wooden box and opened it. Inside was two gold cups made by the finest goldsmith in England, "For Your Majesty's table," he added in French with his right hand on his chest and a bow. Two can play this game if she so desired it. After all it would do no good for him to say she was Anne Boleyn at the French court, especially since he wasn't even sure anyone would believe him.

Anne motioned for the servant to step forward more. When he was within reach, she delicately took out one of the cups and turned it in the light, finally she gave Charles Brandon a smile, "Please thank his Majesty for me," she spoke as she placed the cup back in the box and waved her hand for one of her ladies to take the box.

The Duke of Suffolk bowed again as he was forced to leave so that others may present gifts to the new Queen. His mind told him that it should not be possible that Anne Boleyn would be alive let alone the Queen of France, but there was a feeling he could not describe. He felt it was her…but even so he could not deny that there was the slight possibility that they were two different people. So where does this leave him with this information? Should he inform his King of the new Queen of France's appearance? Henry would want to know, he would be terribly angry, but what good would come out of informing the King? Things are sealed with the lady's wedding and coronation to the King of France. Even if she was Anne Boleyn, he had to admit that she is the reigning and legitimate Queen consort of France, to admit otherwise would imply that Anne Boleyn had been the Queen of England, cementing the bastard status of Princess Mary and the child of Queen Jane. Charles Brandon was not about to admit that the woman he had long viewed as an enemy was the Queen of England…similarly, even if he told Henry of this Anne and the possibility that she may be Anne Boleyn, his King could do nothing now that she was married. Henry could not admit that Anne Boleyn was Queen, and he could hardly demand the King of France to hand over his wife so that she could be executed in England. No good will come out of telling Henry, but they would likely meet once England signs a treaty with France…This was a nightmare.

Anne de Montmorency and Diane de Poitiers watched as English Duke walked away with his brow slightly furrowed. "The Duke seemed to be troubled by _Her Majesty_," Lady Poitiers observed. She was not fond of the new Queen who was born so lowly yet received such praise and admiration from many Courtiers. Granted these Courtiers had something to gain in praising the Queen, but even the King seemed to hold Queen Anne in high regard, listening to her advice politically, something he had not granted to even his favorite, his mistress.

"I would imagine so," the Marshal of France replied as he stroked his beard, "Our new Queen Anne has an uncanny resemblance to one deceased Queen of England with the same name." His voice was even but quiet.

Diane turned to her companion in surprise, "Anne Boleyn of England?" This was news to her.

Montmorency nodded, "I only saw the woman for several days in Calais more than five years again, but I remember her clearly. The _Queen _Annes are identical," he frowned at this, "But they can't be the same person. It is too radical. Anne Boleyn have a familiarity with France, if she survived her husband in England, she would not come here, and certainly would not become the Queen of the France. There are simply too many eyes here."

Diane laughed, a spark in her eyes, "My Lord, have you never heard the phrase that the most dangerous place is often the safest?" There was a moment of silence, before Diane turned to Montmorency with all seriousness in her eyes, "Queen Anne is in favor of the English Alliance?"

The Marshal nodded with a frown, "She encourages the King in his rushed endeavors to rise above the Habsburgs."

"I hear that she is a secret sympathizer of the heretics," Diane questioned as she took a sip of her wine.

Montmorency nodded, "I have heard similar things. Certainly, Anne Boleyn was a woman that caused England to fall into heresy."

"The King has never been harsh with the heretics."

Montmorency scoffed, "The King sees the heretics as a tool in his game of balance to control the nobility. He doesn't favor them nor hate them; he just wants to use them."

Diane smiled, "I am aware of that, but you are worried about the Queen's beliefs aren't you?"

The Marshal snapped his attention to his companion. She had always been able to read people quite well, incredibly observant, "The King favors her, I fear that she may turn him to favor the heretics."

There was another pregnant pause before Diane de Poitiers spoke again, "Then let us hope that she is really Anne Boleyn of England," her companion looked at her in confusion, while Diane laughed lightly, "What better way for her to lose favor than for the King to discover that the Queen is not who she seemed to be."

He coughed slightly, "She would have covered her tracks well by now."

Diane nodded, "I have no doubt, but where there is a track, a trail could always be sniffed out. You can't hide everything."

* * *

_**September 22**__**nd**__**, 1537, Palais de Louvre, France**_

"Your Majesty, the Prince Charles," Anne's lady in waiting announced.

Anne nodded as the young Prince was led into the room by his governess. He bowed, "Your Majesty."

Anne smiled at the boy, "Your highness," she spoke as she approached the young boy, and knelt down so that she was eye level with him, "Welcome back to Court." The King had announced to Court that Princess Margaret and Prince Charles were to live in court for the next few months so that they may be allowed to get to know their new step mother. While Princess Margaret had caught a minor cold inhibiting her travels, Prince Charles had arrived on time.

"Thank you, mama," Prince Charles replied. He was not completely sure that he was supposed to call her mama, but everyone had said that she was his new step mother. He had never seen his own mama, but the beautiful Queen was ever so kind to him since they first met that he rather liked the idea that she would be his new mama. He felt enchanted by her and the idea of a mother.

Queen Anne was rather stunned by the title that the child had given her. She had not heard that term in so long that hearing it now brought up an array of emotions. He was close to Elizabeth's age that she could not help think of her children. He reminded her of what it felt like to be close to one's own children, that motherly feeling. For that moment she thought she felt that missing warmness in her heart, even if it was just briefly.

Charles was slightly alarmed by the surprised expression on Anne's face. "Does it displease you?"

Anne smiled, a true smile, "It pleases me greatly, Your Highness," she told the child as she embraced him, she couldn't help the tears that swelled in her eyes, but she managed to keep them at bay. Prince Charles was truly a sweet boy, and she was pleased to call him her step son. But when will she hear her own son call her mama?

King Francis stood by the door as he watched the scene unfold before his eyes. He was glad that he had told the herald to be silent when he entered for else he might have missed this display of true emotion, a rarity in court. It was truly a touching scene, making him feel that they had a real family once again. He could see a mother's look in his wife's eyes, it was unmistakable. He smiled to himself; she would indeed be a great mother to Charles and Margaret, his children that still needed a mother.

* * *

_**September 25**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais de Louvre, France**_

"Your Majesty," Catherine de Medici curtsied to Queen Anne of France as the two women came across each other in the gardens. She was dressed rather modestly in a dark Black gown with dark red and white accents. For her necklace, she wore a rather simple piece of gold jewelry and medium sized gold and ruby earrings.

Anne nodded, being Queen meant she no longer needed to curtsy to anyone other than the King, "Your Highness," Anne was dressed in a purple gown, a golden tiara rested on her head catching the sunlight and making glittering patters in the surrounding. "Would you care to join me for a walk through the Gardens?"

The Dauphine nodded, "it would be my pleasure, Your Majesty." Anne smiled and dismissed her ladies that had followed her there as she and Catherine walked on. She preferred to have a private conversation with the Dauphine if she was going to judge her worth as an ally.

"Does Your Majesty find Court pleasing?" Catherine asked.

Anne debated her answer, should she be honest or polite? "Many have been very supportive at Court, and His Majesty treats me very well," it wasn't a direct answer, but Catherine didn't press.

The Dauphin nodded, "His Majesty has been most kind to me."

Anne almost arched a brow at the statement. The only time she had heard the King mention Catherine was during the Feast that they were introduced at. At the time, the King seemed far from being kind to the young girl. She could see that Catherine was lonely and scared but had an honest desire to please. Yet even with court speak, it was not necessary to say that Francis had been the most kind to her.

Catherine seemed to understand Anne's confusion, and elaborated, "Many of His Majesty's advisers have been pressuring him to ask the Pope to annul my marriage because of my empty dowry and womb, but despite making his displeasure at me known, he had always refused the requests of the nobles." The explanation was shockingly straightforward. Anne realized then that Catherine was confiding in her, it meant one thing. Catherine de Medici was seeking her out to be an ally as well. Her subtlety and observational skills was impressive, a worthy ally in Anne's book.

As Anne thought back, she realized that the Dauphine might be right. Although Francis had been vocal about his displeasure at Catherine, remarking that "The girl has come to me stark naked," but he had never said he was going to repudiate her (well at least not yet, but if she still remained childless in several years, divorce will certainly be discussed, Anne had no doubt). Perhaps her education and intelligence had made an impression on Francis. Thus it may be worth the risk to ally with Catherine after all.

They had many similar interests, but one difference rested between them: Catherine de Medici was a devote catholic (more than one Pope came from her family) while Anne had other beliefs, facts that Catherine never needed to know. Anne smiled as they continued their walk, "Do not be discouraged, there is plenty of time yet," she told the Dauphine. Catherine smiled back.

* * *

_**October 12**__**th**__**, 1537, Hampton Court Palace, England**_

She had done it. She was safe, her family was safe. She had given her husband a son, a Prince of Wales for England. He was perfect, it didn't matter that his birth took three days, all the pain was well worth it. Jane Seymour was exhausted from the birth in which she had lost consciousness several times, but as she held the baby blond haired boy in her arms, she could only feel joy and relief. She succeeded where her predecessors failed. Now, his Majesty would ignore those mistresses and be a good husband to her. After all he had said that she had given him the greatest gift.

Elizabeth Seymour smiled at her sister. Their family was safe and all was well again. Jane had given the King what he wanted, a prince for England. Their family would prosper greatly under the King now and even more once her nephew becomes King. The thought made her giggle inside; just think in the future she could be known as the Aunt of the King.

Edward Seymour frowned slightly at the pale looking Prince, he didn't look like he would last the year, but that was a thought he would rather not think of. Jane had fallen pregnant quickly, so there was a good chance that she would be able to produce a Duke of York by next year. By then even if this little boy died, they would have a spare. Next time, the birth would be likely to be easier as well since everyone knows that usually the first births are the worst.

King Henry VIII of England could not be happier, he had a son! After all the struggles and the hardships that he went through, he finally had what he wanted, a son. A son that would mean the preservation of the Tudor dynasty, he meant security for the crown. He could finally rest easy that another bloody civil war had been avoided. He had Jane to thank for everything. She had given him security. Now everyone would know that he had done the right thing to marry Jane Seymour. She had been the one to give him what he wanted, all his misgivings about her was temporally forgotten. "Edward that shall be his name," he smiled at his new son, "Edward Tudor, the Prince of Wales." It sounded well, _King Edward VI_, Majestic like it should be. Then to the King's annoyance, for a brief moment, Henry wondered what name Thomas Boleyn had chosen for Anne's son. Why did he always think of her when all he wished to do was forget her.

Jane nodded, "Edward, it is a grand name, Your Majesty," she liked the name Edward well enough, and it was not like she had expected the King to ask her opinion on the name. The King always made the decisions, and she always obeyed.

Dr. Linacre frowned as he packed up his things. The Queen was ecstatic about the birth of the Prince and in her eyes he was completely perfect, but he had examined the child carefully, he was not the healthiest baby he had seen but not the most sickly either. The complications of the long delivery had lasting damages, one that may continue to show up throughout the life of the Prince. He just didn't want to be there when the King realized the truth, for the entire court knew what length the King had gone through to secure a male heir to the throne. But the good doctor would bite off his own tongue before he had the courage to suggest that Lady Elizabeth may very well long out live her new brother. For the present though, in the eyes of his parents, the Prince Edward was the perfect child, and perhaps, the child will grow healthy in time. It was not completely unheard of.

_**Suite of Thomas Boleyn, Hampton Court**_

From the bell chimes, Thomas Boleyn, the Earl of Wiltshire knew that Jane Seymour had succeeded in giving the King a son. The thought disgusted and angered him, but alas it seemed that the Lord was not on their side in this matter. If only she had failed…if she had given birth to a girl…or a still born, everything would be so much easier, but that was not to be, she had succeeded.

He downed another goblet of wine in frustration. Not everything had gone to plan since his arrival back to Court. His youngest daughter's situation was a major deviation from everything he had planned. Although to this day, he had not been able to confirm officially that Anne de Pisseleu of France was indeed his daughter, he was still sure of it. After all, that was the plan he had made with Adrien, when his daughter had passed away. He just could not figure out how it was possible she became the Queen of France. The danger of the position is unthinkable. England is in the process of securing an alliance with France, King Henry would surely eventually see Anne again to formalize the alliance, and Thomas didn't know how the King would react.

Furthermore, his lack of favor in the mind of the King had not really changed, even while it was apparent that the King had lost much interest in Jane Seymour. He wondered how things would change now that she had given him a son. Would he overlook her inadequacies? Perhaps…but King Henry was not known for consistency and thus Thomas would not be surprised that once the appeal of the new son wore off, Jane Seymour's affection in his heart will ware off as the King is reminded of her nature.

The real problem then arises not from the King's feelings toward the woman but the fact that she had given a son to the King, a son that is currently being recognized as legitimate. Her position as Queen would thus remain safe as long as her son is alive. For the briefest moment, a truly evil thought passed through Thomas's mind, _if that son died_, then a lot of their problems would be solved. But it was just a thought, one that he had let pass, not because Thomas had any notion of disillusion that he was a kind and good man but because he knew full well that the risks of carrying out such acts were too great. Even if he succeeded, the action could turn the people against his innocent grandchildren, something he would not allow.

Thus the "Prince" Edward problem remains. Yet not everything is as bleak as it can be. While he may have been hopeful that the child was a girl or dead, he had not just sat around waiting for the news. There were certain precautions that he had taken just in case, and it had cost him a heavy penny for it. Hopefully, with any luck they will come to fruition.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I have been debating since I started the story about the wedding night, and I very nearly went the other direction, but then I thought about it, Francis isn't in love with her yet (about one more chapter), and Anne's refusal no matter how I spin it, how pretty much scream "Hey I'm Anne Boleyn, and I'm still in love with my ex-husband." She can't say that she is in love with anyone because well, that won't end will. Beside most people marry people they don't even know in those days and they still have children….Anne won't be in love with Francis anytime soon and it would be ridiculous if they wait till then, I need children for dynastic alliances…(I think I said too much).

Jane Seymour had a son…don't kill me…I really feel like hiding after this chapter…but think guys...**what is worse: to know that you lost because you didn't have a son, or to know that you did everything right, but still lost.** Jane died in history, making Henry remember her fondly (personally, probably because he wouldn't have to deal with her anymore and he started to form an idealized version of her in his mind), so what happens if she lived? And I admit I did make him a sickly kid when he was relatively healthy as a baby (I just don't see how three days of labor at the time period could turn out a perfectly healthy kid).

I was rather pleased that one reviewer actually guessed that Charles Brandon was the special envoy.

**Please review!** They serve as fuel for inspiration and motivation. I'm actually a little giddy about what I have planned for next chapter. lol

Until next time,

Cruelangel


	6. Chapter 5: Shades of Grey

**Title: Nemesis**

**Author: **Cruelangel101

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...Not the characters, not the show, and certainly not the production company…can anyone own history?**

**Detailed Summary:** Starting from the scene where Anne watched her brother's execution, Anne finds herself pregnant with the King's child. They thought she was saved, but the King still enraged and determined to marry Jane Seymour, chose to believe the child was the offspring of one of the executed man. Anne's execution was determined to proceed after the birth of her child. A plot from an unexpected family member, rescued her from the tower and in the most bizarre chain of events she ended up as the Queen of France. All the while her rival Jane Seymour rises to the position of Queen of England. Her heart cold from betrayal and filled with hopes for revenge, what would the future hold? Can new warmth melt her iced heart or will past spark ignite once more? This time when two men battle for her heart, the consequence is war. (Queen of France and son after the tower ideas are hardly new to fanfic, but I would like take a new spin on it.)

**Pairings:** Anne/Francis I and Anne/Henry VIII (both in some ways)

**AN:** I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed and/or favorite and/or alerted this story. The support has been very touching!

Sorry that this came a little late, I had it done earlier today, but I had no internet until now.

**Nemesis…the Greek goddess of revenge…**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Five: Shades of Grey**

_The ideal world is in black and white where the good and the evil are clearly defined, but we live in the real world with many shades of grey where the good and the evil resides in everyone's hearts._

_**October, 30th, 1537, Palais du Louvre, France**_

Queen Anne watched Francis read the letter from the Ambassador to England with interest. Once in a while, the King would pause and summarize what he had read, "The ambassador informs me that Jane Seymour has given the King of England a son."

Anne twitched ever so slightly, but Francis seemed to be absorbed in the letter. She felt a slight twinge to her heart from the news. Her enemy had succeeded, but she had not failed either. She had given Henry a son as well, just not in time to keep his favor. The news simply did not sit well with her. She was so sure that Henry would be bored with Jane Seymour within weeks, but she had successfully fallen pregnant and given him a son. He would have to keep her around now. It irritated her beyond belief that Jane Seymour still got to style herself as the Queen of England. "He accepted on Your Majesty's behalf then?"

Francis nodded, "Yes, I shall have to send a gift to my new godson as well, I suppose," Francis said with some amusement. It was clear that he could not care less about the English Prince, but as per what they had decided months ago, if Jane Seymour had a son, then Francis would acknowledge the boy as his godson.

Anne nodded; it was what she had expected. She took a sip of her wine and nearly choked on her drink as she heard Francis's next words after he continued with the letter, "Anne Boleyn had a son before her death," he paused and allowed the information to sink in, "Why was she set aside then?" He didn't really ask Anne the question; instead the question was more directed to himself.

"Does it make much of a difference? King Henry would declare his newly born son the Prince of Wales soon," said Anne. It was common practice for the Ambassadors to write information they hear regarding the private lives of the royal family down. Her son had probably been kept quiet by Henry, but information always leaked out one way or another. It was no surprise that the new French Ambassador heard about it.

Francis took a sip of his wine and nodded, "Anne Boleyn is dead," there was something in his voice, or was that just Anne's imagination, "and her marriage was annulled by the King, but think, what if Henry suddenly decided that he would rather have more than one son to the throne. He could simply have it declared that his advisors had made a mistake, and that Anne Boleyn was his wife. He would then have two legitimate sons as his marriage to Jane Seymour occurred after his late wife's death."

"He believes that the boy is a bastard, not to mention, the English people would hardly accept a boy whose mother was sentenced to die for treason and adultery," Anne quickly pointed it out, trying to keep the bitterness out of her tone.

Francis did not respond immediate as he took another sip of wine, his eyes never leaving Anne's form, "Perhaps not." He folded the letter and set it aside, "Empress Isabella wishes to visit France and her husband. I have granted her permission. She should be arriving for Christmas." It was a swift change in subject.

Anne blinked, she had expected Francis to retort about the English situation but she quickly recovered, "I shall make preparations then."

Francis nodded, "I have every confidence that you will make the Empress's stay enjoyable," he paused briefly as if to ponder something, tapping his chin, a move that Anne noted the King did often when he is in deep thought, "She is bringing her son. What do you think about a marriage agreement between him and Margaret?"

While Margaret was four years the Prince's senior, it was far from a ludicrous match. Adding to the match is that while Charles V remains in the hold of France, the Empress was likely to accept the match easily in hope to negotiate her husband's release. Furthermore, France would not have to supply nearly as much dowry. "Isabella would want her niece Maria of Portugal for her daughter in law to strengthen the bond between Spain and Portugal. They are already betrothed, no?"

Francis laughed, "Promises and treaties are often broken. Henri was once betrothed to Mary of England but it fell through. Mary of England was betrothed to Charles V, but he married Isabella instead. What we want does not mean that we can get it. Isabella is in no position to reject the match should we suggest it."

Anne smiled, but pointed out the flaw in his logic, "You have just made an excellent point. Matches and treaties are often broken. Philip will not be of age to marry for another four years at least. A lot may happen in those years, especially when France could hardly keep the Emperor that long."

"What if we trade the Emperor for his son?" this was a question that had been raised a few times already, but nothing conclusive had ever been determined, "We can keep him until he is old enough to marry Margaret."

Politically that may work…but… "But your Majesty has made an alliance with England. Wouldn't it send the wrong message if you were to marry Margaret to the Emperor's son?" There was also the fact that Margaret would hardly be endeared to Philip under these circumstances. Away from her father's protection, who knows what could happen. But the happiness of the royal children was not of consequence with marriage negotiations and politics. That was the way the monarchies operated.

Francis nodded, "You are of course correct. England wanted the alliance because they want a piece of Charles's empire, they would expect something in return." He tapped his chin with his index finger again, "Perhaps we can make another alliance, and just break his empire to pieces?"

That was what Anne wanted of course, but it was hardly an easy task, "Portugal is closely tied with Spain, so is the rest of the empire, ruled mostly by the Hapsburgs. Convincing them to separate from Charles V would be near impossible."

"There are the German states," Francis pointed out…

* * *

_**November 1**__**st**__**, 1537, Palais du Louvre, France**_

It was a rare occasion that the royal family would all sit down together for supper, thus the rarity made for a strange atmosphere. While Prince Charles had been very affectionate with his new step mother as usual, insisting on taking the seat next to her, Princess Margaret was a bit reserved. She was still recovering from her illness from before. She did make easy conversation with Anne and her father though. The Dauphin was what confused her. While the first time they met, he had been nothing but friendly, he was much more formal recently, almost cold. Anne wondered if she had somehow upset him.

They made it through dinner without any incident, but Anne could not brush off the feeling that something was off. Yet she could not figure out what exactly. She had the distinct feeling that she was missing something very important. The same feeling did not go away even as she and Francis readied for bed.

"Something is bothering you," Frances noted surprising Anne as she had thought him already asleep.

"It's nothing, "Anne brushed it off.

"Is it Henri?" He asked.

It was moments like this that Anne was rather amazed by Francis's observational skills. She nodded. She did not say anything in return, because she didn't know how to phrase it.

"I'm sure he will come around," he assured her; somehow Anne got the feeling that the King knew something, but she did not push the subject. Henri was the heir to the throne and although not his father's favorite, was a tender subject, one that Anne was still not completely sure on how to go about it. She didn't exactly have the best practice with Mary after all.

* * *

_**November 3**__**rd**__**, 1537, Palais du Louvre, France**_

Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk was rather irritated. For weeks he had tried to speak to the Queen of France privately, but she had always surrounded herself with many people. The one time he had gotten close enough at a Banquet to ask for a private audience, she had rebuffed him stating that it was not proper for what he had to say to her could be stated in public.

Her avoidance of him increased his suspicions of her, but of course that did not rule out the possibility that she was being proper and had heard of his reputation as a lady's man. Nevertheless, his efforts would be of little use now as he had received a verbal agreement of an alliance from the French King and must hurry back to England before weather becomes terrible for sailing.

He had begun negotiations of a more specific treaty between France and England, but he needed to ask his King about the final preparations. It was most likely that the King would visit France in the next year for several reasons. The thought made him sleepless. There would be no avoiding the matter of the new French Queen then. He still hadn't decided what to say about the matter yet.

* * *

_**November 4**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais **__**du Louvre, France**_

"Your Majesty," the Dauphine Catherine curtsied to the Queen Anne. While the royal banquet for the Queen's birthday was hours from now, the Dauphine thought it proper to present part of her gift to the Queen in private, "A gift from my homeland," she told the Queen as she brought out a small sized book.

It felt rather odd to be celebrating a dead woman's birthday as her own, but she must keep up appearances. Anne smiled at Catherine as she took the book in her hands, "Thank you, Catherine." The cover of the book was carved out from a dark piece of wood and the lettering that spelled out the title was elegantly engraved. It was indeed a fine craftsmanship piece by the artwork alone. She fingered the title gently, "The Prince by Nicolo Machiavelli," as she read the title out loud. The title was in Italian, but she had picked up enough of the language to understand this. She had seen the book before; it was a book that Henry often claimed to draw inspiration from. It was a book that was also a favorite of Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor. Yet surprisingly, for a man that pledged absolute monarchism, Francis had never taken up the book. Anne thought the reason may be related to France's losses in Italy.

She opened the book and found that surprisingly the inside was written in French, "Did you translate this yourself?" she asked in curiosity.

Catherine nodded, "I am not very accomplished in the art of languages, but I hope I did the book justice." Anne nodded. She and Catherine both knew that Catherine would have done a finer job than most translators, but she was only playing the part of modesty in front of the Queen.

"I shall enjoy reading it, thank you, Your Highness," Anne responded in all honesty.

* * *

_**November 8**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais du Louvre, France**_

"Your Majesty," Lord Brosse bowed to Anne. It was a rather quiet banquet tonight. While Francis danced with Francoise de Foix, Anne had walked around exchanging pleasantries with a few courtiers. It wasn't long before the Count approached her.

"My Lord," Anne smiled at her friend.

"May I request a moment of Your Majesty's time?" There was something urgent in his voice.

Anne nodded as the Count led her to a rather secluded corner, "What is it?" She was rather curious as to why he seemed so concerned.

Brosse lowered his voice, "Diane de Poitiers and Montmorency have been asking a lot of questions lately."

Anne arched a brow; she didn't really see a point of concern here, but Brosse continued, "They are making inquests into Your Majesty's life in Picardy." Anne froze at this statement.

She had not heard anything about this, which caught her completely off guard. While a million thoughts ran through her mind, she forced herself to look unconcerned, why should Anne de Pisseleu be concerned? "And?"

"They are cunning and resourceful people. Together they make a formidable enemy. Be careful with them. I have a feeling that they are planning something, but they are being tight lipped about it," he continued on.

There was a very long pause where the only sound between them was the music and chatter that filled the room. Finally Anne spoke again, "I don't understand why they are targeting me."

Brosse sighed, "Montmorency had always been in favor of a Imperial alliance as well as being a devote catholic. There is much talk at court that Your Majesty secretly sympathizes with the Protestants and your Majesty is openly encouraging a break from all imperial alliances. He believes that Your Majesty is a treat to France."

That much Anne could have guessed, "And what about Poitiers?" she asked.

Brosse shrugged, "I cannot be certain, but I can hazard a guess. It may be that she views Your Majesty's birth to be below the qualifications of Queen. She despises the attention that other female courtiers receive. She tolerated Mistress Foix because she is a cousin to the late Queen Claude and was of high birth. Not to mention Mistress Foix is not politically influential. However, with Diane, while she may be the Dauphin's favorite, there were one or two occasions in the past when the King asked her of her opinion on matters. She has a shrewd mind, and the King is one for recognizing talent. She also most definitely influences the Dauphin, making her a strong political force at court. Perhaps she is jealous, or maybe a misunderstanding, but she has essentially declared herself to be your majesty's enemy."

"And with her opinion, she could easily influence the Dauphin," Anne finally made the connection. The reasons for Henri's coldness suddenly made sense. She had to watch her actions at court carefully now. If they are already making inquests into her past…she didn't want to think of the consequences.

Yet this fact also taught her something. She was keeping her own ears open for news, but that was obviously not enough. If it wasn't for Brosse, she would never have heard about Diane and Montmorency's plans until it was too late. She needed more people, people who are completely loyal to her, her eyes and ears in this dangerous playground.

"Your Majesty?" Lord Brosse questioned as the Queen seemed to have been lost in thought. When she turned her attention back to him, he smiled, "There are a few people that I would like to introduce to your majesty."

Anne nodded, and Brosse quickly led him to two other men. They quickly bowed to Anne as they saw her approach, "Your Majesty."

Anne greeted them with a nod and a "My Lords."

Brosse smiled, "With your majesty's permission, I would like to introduce Lord Philippe de Chabot, admiral of France and Cardinal Francois de Tournon." Then he lowered his voice slightly and added, "They share our similar interests." Anne agreed with Brosse, it was well past the time that she should have started to surround herself with more powerful allies.

* * *

_**November 10**__**th**__**, 1537, Hampton Court, England**_

"The King has taken a new mistress," Edward announced to the room that consisted of Jane, Elizabeth, and Thomas.

Jane heard herself gasp at that. It didn't make sense, she had given the King a son, everything was supposed to be perfect now, yet it wasn't.

"It should not surprise you, sister," Edward told her rather coldly.

Jane nodded mutely. She would have to endure this silently just like Queen Katherine, the woman she admired most ardently. She had promised to be a good wife to her husband and she would be true to her words. Elizabeth on the other hand was curious, "who is it?"

"Lady Ursula Misseldon," Edward responded.

Thomas snorted, "I thought the Lady was the mistress of Sir Frances. It seems that she certainly get around quickly."

Edward frowned, while it was satisfying to continue on about Lady Misseldon's seemingly lack of virtue, they had other things to worry about, "She had managed to keep his attention for longer than a few nights."

"Why her?" asked Elizabeth. While Lady Ursula was pretty, she was far from the most handsome woman at court. She did not understand why the King seemed to be taken with her.

Edward continued to frown, "Why else? She reminds him of her."

"But she denied him for years, yet Lady Misseldon joined his bed rather quickly," Thomas Seymour pointed out.

"It's in her movements and sometimes her eyes. She is not her, but she is as close as the King will get to her," Edward responded.

Jane felt rather dejected at this. She had done everything to be the perfect wife to his Majesty, yet even now, he could not stop thinking about her. At least she could comfort herself that he is not openly stating it. It was all just connections made by the Courtiers. It made it slightly easier for her to deny the truth even though she knew it in her heart. "But we are safe," she told her brothers.

Edward Seymour laughed, "Safe? Yes we are safe for now as long as Prince Edward lives. Yet he is less than a month old and has been very sick twice already. The King has delayed the Ceremony to invest him with the title of Prince of Wales indefinitely because of this. Anything could happen until he is declared as the Prince of Wales. You must secure our positions by providing the King with a Duke of York. It is vital."

Jane felt her heart sink. She hated that Edward referred to her son like a tool, discussing his life as if it mattered little. He was her son. Could he not feel some human emotions just once? Then there was the matter of conceiving a Duke of York. Doctor Linacre had insisted that she refrain from marriage duties for at least six month because of the toll that Edward's birth had taken on her body. He had feared for her life if she were to fall pregnant so soon. Edward knew that, yet he was pushing her again. She was nothing but a tool to him too. It hurt to know that. He was her brother; the same blood runs through their veins. They are family and aren't families supposed to look out for each other? They were like a family once, before they had met the King. Sometimes Jane really wished they could go back to those times. With all the riches as the Queen of England, she could not buy what she desired the most, the love of her husband and family.

* * *

_**November 15**__**th**__**, 1537, Hampton Court, England**_

"_I know things have not gone well for you since your husband was executed," Queen Jane spoke kindly to Lady Rochford. _

_It was the first kind words that Jane Boleyn had heard in a long time. It had been a light to her darkness, "I have been utterly abandoned. I feel I was condemned because of what George did. Even Mr. Cromwell has refused to answer my letters." She had given Cromwell what he wanted, yet he too abandoned her. _

_The Queen gave her a sympathetic smiled, "Nothing was your fault. George Boleyn was his own Keeper. I want you to come back to court. I would like to appoint you my principle Lady in Waiting."_

_Jane Boleyn felt utterly speechless at the new Queen's kindness. The Queen continued, "I hope you will accept this position." _

_Jane felt tears in her eyes, "Thank you, Your Majesty," she managed to choke out. _

The Queen had been true to her word, and Jane Boleyn found herself in a respectable position at court. She was eternally grateful to the Queen. She had been in hell the moment she was forced to marry George Boleyn, and she had sold her soul to get out. It was unmoral what she did, she knew that, but she was left with no choice.

Her _husband_…she hated to think of him. She hated him. She still remembered her wedding night, when he had pushed her onto the table and took her in a way she was certain was not the way men and women came together. It was the most painful experience of her life. She had begged him repeatedly to stop but he ignored her. In the end he had left her on the floor crying for hours.

She still remembered when she had confronted him about his affair.

_He had strode into the room lazily and laid down on the bed. She knew he had been with him. "Where have you been?" she asked him as she brushed her hair insanely._

"_I told you, I had meetings," he waved her off, but sat up. She didn't stop brushing her hair, "Council matters."_

_She scoffed and brushed even faster, "Until this hour?"_

_He shrugged off his jacket, "Yes, the King's affairs never sleep."_

_She became angry, "and what of your affairs?" she paused her brushing._

_He repeated her words, "my affairs…"_

_She threw her brush onto the bed, "You have just come from another's bed," he put up a hand to wave her off, but she was beyond that point now, "No, do not deny it."_

_He sighed and approached her with a taunting smile, "Very well, I shant."_

_She looked away. The tears were building up, but she refused to cry. She had told him not to deny it, but deep down she almost begged him to, "What makes it worse is that you have not forsaken my bed for another woman." He rubbed his face tiredly as she approached him again, "But for another man." This time she told herself that if he denied her accusations she would believe him. She needed to believe him._

_He looked up at her. His face said it all. He was not going to deny it. He was taunting her, telling her even if she knew, there was nothing she could do about it. She started to panic and break down, "Oh God," she choked out as she backed away, "Oh my god…oh my god it's true…OH MY GOD…that's disgusting…" she started to back away farther but he caught up with quickly and grabbed her shoulder painfully, and shushed her, but she refused to be silent. "It's a sin against God. It's a sin against nature," she screamed at him. "All those who practice it are condemned by the Gospels to live forever in purgatory!"_

_He had grabbed on to her head by now. It was a grip she couldn't get out off. It felt suffocating. His voice dropped lower and as a deadly glint entered his eyes, "Listen…My love," he spit the words at her, "I think with you I am ALREADY CONDEMNED IN PURGATORY!" He pushed her onto the bed sideways forcefully, slamming the doors shut as he left her once again in tears. _

She tried to talk to his sister, Anne Boleyn, but she had no ears for her. She had refused to believe everything she said. When she had made the comparison between Anne and the King's marriage to that of hers, Anne had snapped angrily, feeling sorrier for herself that her husband was seeking other women.

She wanted out of her marriage, but she couldn't get out. A divorce was impossible. While Anne Boleyn remained Queen, her father would never allow her to return home. How could she divorce the Queen's brother? She was a woman and thus by standard completely dependent on her husband, a husband she wished to be away from. Their marriage was a nightmare, a nightmare she could not wake up from.

But Mister Cromwell had offered her a chance for freedom. He had asked her about Anne and George's relationship. From his tone, she knew that he wanted something, was pushing for something. So she sold her soul to the devil for the one chance to be free. She condemned George and Anne Boleyn to death. It was selfish, she knew that, but she wanted revenge so badly. She wanted the Boleyns to pay for her fate.

Yet, there were these nights when she would wake up in cold sweat, dreaming that George and Anne Boleyn were back to haunt her. Why could he not just leave her alone? She was going to see him in purgatory in due time. She wished there was a way to ease her conscience, but there was nothing she could do. There was no longer room to make amends. They were dead. She could only console herself with the fact that humans are naturally selfish creatures. She was offered a way out with a price, and she took it.

* * *

_**December 6**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais du Louvre, France**_

Francoise curled up next to the French King, one hand playing with his shirt as the other hand ran through his hair, "What is wrong, my love?" She knew something was bothering Francis.

"Nothing," he responded, it was what he responded with when it was something political that he thought she did not need to be involved with. She didn't push the subject, she never did.

She kissed his neck, "How is your wife?" He tensed beside her.

"What about Anne?" he asked.

"There are rumors at court that her past is questionable," she told him straightforwardly. Diane de Poitiers had slipped her some information privately a day prior and Francoise was going to use it.

Francis did not seem to react much, but from the tenseness of his body, Francoise knew he was listening very carefully, "There are rumors that Anne de Pisseleu was…"

She did not finish the sentence as she felt Francis's hand squeeze her right upper arm painfully. His voice was cold when he finally spoke, "It is not wise to gossip about the Queen, Francoise." He was clearly warning her, but she didn't want to drop the subject. She was fighting to drive him away from her. This may be her last chance, "She does not love you," she said instead.

The tension on her arm was released as Francis sighed, "I know." There was no protest in his tone, only acceptance.

"I love you," her voice almost sounded a little frantic. She had felt her position slipping for months now. She had tried everything to secure his attentions but it was to no avail.

He stroked her hair with a smile, "I know." She wanted just a few days more of denial. She still did not want to believe in it, but the truth was already sinking into her mind. Francoise just did not have the courage to say right now what she wanted to say, _but you love her. _

_

* * *

_

_**December 10**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais du Louvre, France**_

Francoise de Foix was not a woman that would cling on to a sinking ship. She knew perfectly well when she had lost. She had not given up easily though, but she could not control the way that the King feels. King Francis loved his wife, Queen Anne, and it broke Francoise's heart.

When Francoise had first come to Court all those years ago, she had immediately attracted the attention of the King. In the beginning it had been her looks, but she kept his attentions because of her education and culture. She had been flattered, but she had loved her husband and had no desire to betray him, yet the King persisted. In the life they live, one simply could not refuse the King. What the King wanted, the King usually got.

That was not to say that the King had forced her into becoming his mistress. No, but he did seduce her heart and soul. While she resisted him for a brief period of time, she had eventually given in. She was as much drawn to him as he was to her. He was very kind to her, elevating her brothers and constantly presenting her with elaborate gifts. But those things were not what drew her to him. She fell in love with him because he made her feel safe in a dangerous place like the Court. He protected her from the gossips and slanders of the Courtiers. He was like her knight in shining armor. In return she gave him her heart. She never asked him for anything, (except once, when she had asked him to spare her brother's life) because she had wanted to honor their feelings. She did not see herself as some common whore who sold herself to elevate her own family. Yes her family had benefited, but she had not asked for it. She was his mistress because she loved him.

For nineteen years they lived in harmony, and Francoise lived in blissful happiness, but that all has changed. The King was not unkind to her, but she could feel him slipping away. He had withdrawn his romantic feelings for her. This was the sad reality no matter how much she wished to deny it. She didn't give up without a fight though. She tried to draw the King's attention back, even going as far as hinting slander of the Queen. She hadn't wanted to let the love of her life go without a fight. She didn't want to have any regrets. At the very least, now she could content herself with the fact that although she had failed, she had at least tried.

Yet letting go still had been different. She worried for the King. His feelings for his wife were plain to Francoise. In the years that they had spent together, she had learnt to read him well; at times she felt that she knew him better than he did. He truly loved Anne, but he didn't understand it. His lack of understanding wasn't surprising. While he had immense respect for the late Queen Claude, he did not love her. In fact, she didn't know if Francis ever loved her either, he favored her and was attracted but was it love? With Anne it was different. He saw her as an equal, as a confidant, a friend, and a lover. Feelings of admiration had developed into love that she could see.

Then there were the Queen's feelings…although Francoise served as one of her ladies in waiting, she did not spend much time with the Queen, but even so, she could see that what the Queen felt for Francis was not love, but respect. Perhaps she viewed him as a friend, but certainly not a lover. These observations did nothing to sooth her initial fears that Queen Anne was using Francis. It would be so much easier for her to let go, if Anne had loved Francis.

"Your Majesty," she curtsied to the King. This was her last attempt. "I come to ask your permission to return home with my husband for Christmas."

He looked at her with slight surprise. If he asked her to stay…Francis nodded, "Very well, Madame. When will you return?"

He had let her go…her heart hurt, but she did not show it, "I do not wish to return to court, Your Majesty. It is my desire to retire from Court."

He didn't say anything for a few moments, but she could see that he understood. She had fought and lost, but she did not regret loving Francis. He touched her cheeks briefly, "Very well, I wish you happiness Francoise," he told her softly. It was truly time for them to part ways. He smiled at her, "If you ever desire to return, you will be always most welcome." Perhaps they could be friends someday.

She nodded, "Thank you, your Majesty." She thought about leaving his presence then, but she stopped. She loved him, but that doesn't mean she had to have him. She wanted him to be happy, "There is something else," she told him. He looked at her expectantly, "Your wife, sir."

His lips twitched ever so slightly. He did not like it when she spoke about the Queen. Why would he? After all she had said nothing positive about his wife since they met. She smiled at him, "If you love her, you must tell her, even if she does not love you now. It's rare that in this world we love in to find someone we love let alone be married to them. You should fight for her love. I fought for yours, and even though I lost, I do not regret the nineteen years we had together. I don't know if you ever loved me, but I know you love her. Seduce her."

Perhaps the country air will do her some good. She had cut the string that tied her to Court for so long. It was perhaps a rash decision, a complete change to her resolve four day ago, but it felt right. It was time to let it all go. She was letting go so that Francis would be truly free to pursue his happiness. Or maybe it was because she was just tired of feeling insecure all the time, a constant fear of being cast aside. She did not want the sour feeling that was bound to arise if Francis had made the decision to set her aside. She was a courtier, and she had to think of the future as well. She wanted Francis to remember her fondly.

* * *

_**December 15**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

Palais du Fontainebleau was the most beautiful palace that Anne had ever lived in, far surpassing the splendors of Hampton Court that she had been so fond of. Reconstruction of the palace had started years prior, but recently finished (with the help of a small portion of the funds paid by Empress Isabella in exchange for the soldiers captured in the Battle of Paris.

The Palace was a splendor that represented the Renaissance, enhanced by great names such as Gilles le Breton, Sebastiano Serlio, Rosso Fiorentino and even Leonardo da Vinci. It was the perfect place for the French to welcome the Holy Roman Empress and her party. At least it would have been if the Empress actually made the trip. Weather changes had greatly delayed the Empress's trip, but new envoys had been sent to finalize negotiations between the two countries, especially when Spain had heard that there were talks that the English King was to visit France.

It had started out as a rumor, but it was becoming more and more apparent that it was becoming a fact fast. There was already talk about preparing for the English King's arrival as early as spring. Anne did not rest well with that idea. She could only see explosions of catastrophic scale when she and Henry meet again. She did not want to see him with Jane Seymour, and he…he may have hated her by the end of their relationship, but he was a possessive man.

She put Henry aside from her mind momentarily; her son was one year old today. She wanted to be there and wish him a happy birthday, but she couldn't. She still did not know of his name, but in the letters that the Ambassador sent to Francis monthly, she knew that he was still alive and healthy. That was enough for her for now. As long as he was safe, it buys her time, but she didn't know if it helps much now. Her past was catching up with her quickly.

She missed her children so much, but for them she had to remain strong. With even the worst opposition, she must face it bravely. Now, she didn't know how she felt about her new condition. While she respected the child's father, she did not love him. Yet the idea of a child now did serve to console her slightly. She had long to hold her own child in her arms. While she loved Elizabeth, she had missed much of Elizabeth's childhood, one because she had been so focused on trying to keep her position as Queen. With her son, she was given no choice. She did not want to miss it this time. She clutched her stomach briefly as she looked at Francis, "I have a strange craving for Apples," she told him. It was what she had craved with Elizabeth as well.

Francis immediately snapped his attention at her in surprise, "Apples?" his lips twitched ever so slightly as a smile was beginning to form.

Anne nodded, "I am with Child. The Midwife confirmed it this morning." She really had suspicions since a month prior, when the morning sickness started. By the time she had called the midwife, there was no doubt in her mind.

Francis beamed at her. Although he had three healthy living children already, he was incredibly elated by the news. Who would not be happy to have more children? He rose from his seat quickly and strode to her side, picking up her hands and pressed a kiss on them, "You have made me very happy. Thank you, Anne."

* * *

_**December 16**__**th**__**, 1537, Paris, France**_

Diane de Poitiers walked into the rather shabby room at a small inn with her nose held high. She understood that Montmorency was seeking secrecy away from the eyes of the courtiers, but this place disgusted her, so far below her station. Inside, Montmorency and another poorly dressed woman was waiting for her.

"My lord," she inclined her head at him.

He nodded to her in response, "This is Marie." He gestured to the woman, who gave her a shy smile, "She used to serve in the Pisseleu house."

"How do you do?" Diane smiled at the woman.

The woman looked slightly awestruck. To think of such important and great lady and lord were speaking to her, "I…I am fine..thank..thank you, my lady, she stuttered out."

Diane nodded, "There is a favor we must ask of you," the woman looked ready to please, "It is in regard to your previous master, Adrien de Pisseleu and his daughter."

"The Queen!" Marie responded with enthusiasm. It was clear that she, like many of the common people, especially that of Picardy was extremely proud of her.

Diane internally winced; perhaps this was not going to be as easy as she had thought. Montmorency sighed, "What do you remember about the Queen? What are her likes and dislikes? We wish to present her majesty with a surprise," it wasn't completely a lie.

Marie felt slightly hesitant. It was not her place to divulge the secrets of her previous master, even though she had been dismissed without cause. Montmorency noticed her hesitation immediately and brought out a rather large bag of coins, "For you." He placed it in Marie's hands.

Marie's eyes widened at the sum given. It was more than enough for her family to live comfortably for years and she had not been successful in locating a secure job lately, "The Queen was a very sweet girl," she started to speak, "Such intelligence and beauty all in one woman."

Diane felt slightly frustrated, she was not here to listen to the Queen's praise, but Marie's next words made her smile, "She was such an angel. Beautiful blond hair and blue eyes…"

* * *

_**December 20**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais du Fontainebleau, France,**_

"Your Highness," Diane de Poitiers came into the Dauphin's view with Montmorency and ex-ambassador Bellay in tow. Montmorency was a friend and great advisor to him and they met up often, while the Ambassador had only just returned from England recently.

"My Lord, Your Excellency, Diane," he greeted each individual with a nod.

Diane smiled and walked to the Dauphin, placing a hand on his arm, "Did you decide?"

Henri shook his head. While Diane made an excellent case against the Queen with the servant that she and Montmorency had presented…it was the Queen they were going against. Diane was concerned for him and his father, and Montmorency had stated that the Queen bore a very strong resemblance to Anne Boleyn, but he had only seen her for a few days in Calais five years ago. What if he was wrong? He turned to the Ambassador, "My Lord, have you met the Queen?"

Bellay nodded in response; he knew exactly where this conversation was going. He had suspicions that this was what the Dauphin wanted to speak about when Diane de Poitiers and Montmorency had approached him, "Yes, I sent my greetings to the Queen after my arrival." Indeed he did. He had almost fainted when he met the Queen, but years of experience as a Courtier had came through.

"I must ask you, in private of course," Henri addressed Bellay, "You have known Anne Boleyn of England for years. In your opinion, what do you think about our Queen Anne?"

Bellay swallowed, how should he phrase this? While the Queen really appeared to be Anne Boleyn, she was now Queen of France. He knows the King well…but he could not lie. Montmorency has met Anne Boleyn as well and will have said something to the Dauphin already, "It is my opinion that the Queen does bare a strong resemblance to the late Anne Boleyn."

"A strong resemblance or identical?" Diane de Poitiers pressed.

Bellay cursed in his mind, she was not allowing the matter to drop, "They are nearly identical, but there are a few differences in the way they carry themselves such as Anne Boleyn had an air that could almost be described as arrogance that the Queen does not appear to have."

"But they are nearly identical?" Henri asked again. He did not need to hear that they were exactly the same. With the other evidence, the coincidence would just be too great.

Bellay nodded, while Diane and Montmorency smiled.

* * *

_**December 23**__**rd**__**, 1537, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

The Dauphin entered the chamber alone to meet with his father. He had thought thoroughly about the information that he had received. He could not just let it go away. His father had the right to know. "Your Majesty, he bowed to the King of France.

"Henri," Francis acknowledged him immediately.

Henri, the Dauphin of France looked at Francis somberly, "Father, I have come across certain information regarding the Queen that I must inform you of."

Francis was a bit surprised at what his son had stated, "What about the Queen?"

Henri came forth with the information immediately, "I have reasons to believe that the Queen may not be who she claims to be."

One of Francis' eyebrows rose, "Oh?"

"The Queen looks exactly like Anne Boleyn of England," he stated.

Francis nodded, "I am well of aware of the Queen's resemblance to the _late _woman." He rather hoped that his son would catch his tone but he was still too young to truly understand the works of politics fully.

"But, Anne Boleyn supposedly died about a year ago, and the Duke of Étampes made sudden changes in his staff around the same time. In fact, I spoke to one of the Duke's dismissed servants recently and I was told that no reason was given for half of their dismissal. The last thing they remembered was that their young mistress had been very sick," the Dauphin retorted quickly.

Francis sighed and approached his son, "The Duke had some financial problems about a year ago and could little afford to keep the life style he was accustomed to," he patted his son on the shoulders, "I would not put too much trust in a disgruntled servant. It would not make sense for what you are suggesting. Anne Boleyn could hardly become the Queen of France. Henri, do not always believe the words of the courtiers around you, they often always have something to gain for their actions. This you must learn before you become King. Also, Anne is your step-mother, nothing will change that. Do you understand?"

"But" Henri began but Francis raised a hand to silence him.

"No, Henri. I understand your concern, but you must remember what Anne means to France currently. She had been the hope of the people; in fact they call her the people's Queen. It would be near revolt if any harm comes to her. Do not forget what she has done for this country simply because we are all safe now. We do not forget great deeds." He sighed, "Anne is with child," the Dauphin looked at his father in surprise, no announcement had been made so far about the Queen's condition, "I hope that you will follow discretion regarding those concerns of yours. I do not wish to upset her in her current condition."

Henri admitted defeat for now. There would be nothing that could be done currently with the Queen pregnant; he had to admit to that. Besides, he would not want to upset his father when he did not have completely concrete evidence.

_**Later**_

"Your Majesty," Jean de Bellay greeted the King with a bow as he entered the room.

King Francis did not look up from the parchments in front of him, nor did he give any indication of acknowledgement to the former ambassador. The tense silence that followed made Bellay rather nervous. He was blatantly aware that the King seemed to be displeased with him which left his mind frantically searching for the reason.

Finally to his relief, the King placed the parchments back on the table in a neat pile and rose from his seat. He walked to the cabinet to his right and opened it too reveal a pitcher of wine and some goblets. He poured to goblets of red wine and handed one to Bellay who bowed before retrieving the goblet, "Thank you, Your Majesty."

King Francis nodded but didn't respond. He took a sip of his wine before sitting down on a chair, making himself comfortable, "You are one of my most trusted advisors, Jean. I shall speak honestly and bluntly with you." He turned to his former ambassador with a scathing look, "I do not tolerate my subjects trying to drive a wedge between the members of my family. I am sure you are aware of what I am speaking of?"

Bellay nodded with a gulp. He certainly had an idea. While King Francis was a friendly man, there were times like this that the King became deadly. Bellay did not respond but only bowed his head in a sign of respect. He was aware that the King knew the happenings of his court extremely well. His conversations with the Dauphin a few days prior would no doubt have traveled into the King's ears by now.

Francis spoke again, "Henri spoke to me earlier this morning. He had some very interesting things to say." He took another sip of the wine, and his eyes traveled to meet Bellay in the eyes, "There are people that are running their mouth unnecessarily, corrupting the Dauphin, _disgruntled _past servants that were dismissed for example. I am sure that you could persuade them otherwise? It would be a true shame if my son is misled." It wasn't a question but an order.

Bellay nodded mutely. It was apparent that the King had chosen his side and Bellay would be a fool to side with anyone other than the King.

* * *

_**December 25**__**th**__**, 1537, Hampton Court, England**_

The English Court had woken early in celebration of Christmas. The King sat in his throne while Jane Seymour sat to this right and his daughter, Lady Mary to his left. It was a rather jolly morning as for once, Prince Edward was not sick but sleeping quietly in his nursery. The Prince's health had been a source of severe disappointment to Henry, but his son clung to life. Yet each day, he is reminded that he must provide a better security to his line of succession.

Jane leaned over to him and gave Mary a look before smiling to him, "We would both like to present someone to Your Majesty."

Henry nodded, "Very Well." Then he felt his throat go dry. In a pretty little red dress and flowers in her hair, Elizabeth walked into the room with her head held high. He had not seen her for a year and a half, and she has grown much. Her hair had changed to red now, she was taller, and she was solemn. She didn't run to him yelling Papa like she used to. She seemed to be almost afraid of him. He swallowed hard, his eyes beginning to feel slightly moist.

She and her governess curtsied to him. Her governess introduced her, "Your Majesty, this is…"

He cut the lady off. He didn't need someone else to tell him who HIS daughter was, "My daughter Elizabeth, you don't need to tell me," he finished for her, still not taking his eyes off of his daughter. He could hear the courtiers break out in whispers at his statement and his actions. Only months ago, he had publically denied the child, calling her Henry Norris's bastard. But she was HIS daughter. They all knew that.

Henry smiled at his daughter. He leaned forward in his seat, and beckoned her to approach him. She took three steps forward. It was done smoothly. Despite her feelings towards him, she did not show weakness to his courtiers. He was rather proud of her.

She asked how he was in French flawlessly like her…he responded in the same language and beckoned her forward by patting the space beside him. She smiled at him as her fears seemed to be soothed somewhat and approached him. He picked her up and placed her on his knee. Stroking her soft hair briefly, he placed a soft kiss to her forehead. He had not realized how much he had missed his daughter.

Thomas Boleyn watched the scene quietly. For once he was not plotting, just enjoying the moment. His granddaughter looked so much like little Anne that he found it hard to look at her. Before his relationship with his children had fallen apart he had been a good father to them, and Anne had always been his favorite. Now George was dead, Mary refused to speak to him since she urged him to save Anne, and Anne was in France. He didn't know if she was ignoring him as well as his letters to the Duke of Étampes had all been unanswered. That was unlike Anne. Even if she didn't wish to speak to him, she would have wanted to know about her children. Perhaps it was too dangerous to communicate.

He smiled as the King hugged Elizabeth. He rather wished that he had gone home to see William as well. However, things at Court had kept him here, but there was light at the end of the tunnel, the King is reconciling with his daughter, the next logical step would be his son wouldn't it? Especially with Edward being such a sickly boy.

* * *

_**December 25**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

The cold December air brought in a beautiful layer of snow that rested lazily on the ground and trees. The graceful path the snowflakes took in the Christmas morning was a delightful sight to many. When she had first arrived in France it had been around this time, the same beautiful sheen of white that made France into a winter garden. It had almost been a year, a year since she left England and everything behind. It had been a year since she was forced to start her life over. In this year, so much has happened. She went from a prisoner in the Tower of London to the Queen of France. No one would have believed her tale a year ago, yet it had all happened.

"Where are we going?" asked Anne in curiosity and anticipation. She had heard about the a private conversation that the Dauphin had with Francis, and while no one but two knew their exact conversation it left her with a sense of worry. The King had been very secretive this morning as he woke her, claiming that he had a surprise for her. They had donned heavy coats immediately at set out for a walk in the cold.

Francis shook his head, "You must have Patience, Anne. I have no desire to ruin the surprise. We are very nearly there."

She remained silent for moments before Anne sighed, "But what could be in the cold? Is it somewhere…" she never finished sentence as she froze in their tracks and took in her surroundings.

The green leaves of evergreens and the baron branches of oak trees, both with a layer of soft snow. In the center was an iced over pond…It was exactly the same…the same sight that she had seen a year ago in Picardy when she had chanced upon the clearing in the woods by the Pisseleu household that had quickly became her place of solace. It was the same place that she and Francis had met after the Battle of Paris, the clearing that had essentially pushed her into the position of Queen of France.

"How?" Anne finally managed to speak after she found her voice again.

Francis smiled. He turned her so that they were facing each other, taking her hands in to his. He brought them up to his lips and pressed a kiss into them, "When the innovations to the palace were finished, I asked to add this final detail. From what I remember, you had once told me that this place was your sanctuary. It is a gift for you, a place where the eyes of court will not follow you." He laughed, "I promise not to accidently stumble upon it while injured again."

Anne felt slightly speechless. It was a very nice gesture on Francis's part, "Thank you."

"There is one more thing, Anne," he turned to Anne and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "I know you have heard about the Dauphin's concerns. I make you a promise. I will never question you about your past. I shall always believe in you. That is the trust I wish us to have, because I am in love with you."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

An Ottoman alliance…haha…someone read my notes for the story. It won't come up for awhile yet, a few hints about it will start dropping next chapter.

Jane Boleyn…can't see I have any affection for the woman, but I suppose the Tudors did give her a rather sad beginning. Regardless, she should play an interesting and useful role. As for Ursula, didn't really care for this fictional character one way or another, but I do admit to changing her so that she fit the story.

Elizabeth was not reconciled with her father in history for years, but hey oh well, the show reconciled them in 1536, I delayed it a year.

I do not intend to make the courtiers the bad guys and Anne a perfect angel; life is not black and white, often shades of grey. It's kind of funny, how it's only been five chapters, and somehow this story still didn't progress as I had originally planned, but I suppose I like it this way better. My original story was a lot darker and many shades of grey for everyone involved (but there are elements in there I still like…) I have stated before that Francoise, Diane, and Catherine will all interchange several times between allies and enemies. It's all a matter of interest and balance.

**Please review!** Apparently Reviews are like Steroids to my muse, seeing as I somehow pulled an all nighter to finish the chapter. HAHA. I'm aiming for weekly updates though, so chapters will probably be posted around Friday to Sunday (I should also update my other story but trying to milk this story's muse for all its worth right now, haha). My schedule is rather hectic so I thank you in advance for understanding and ask for patience. I do promise long chapters though.

Until next time,

Cruelangel


	7. Chapter 6: Truth

**Title: Nemesis**

**Author: **Cruelangel101

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...Not the characters, not the show, and certainly not the production company…can anyone own history?**

**Detailed Summary:** Starting from the scene where Anne watched her brother's execution, Anne finds herself pregnant with the King's child. They thought she was saved, but the King still enraged and determined to marry Jane Seymour, chose to believe the child was the offspring of one of the executed man. Anne's execution was determined to proceed after the birth of her child. A plot from an unexpected family member, rescued her from the tower and in the most bizarre chain of events she ended up as the Queen of France. All the while her rival Jane Seymour rises to the position of Queen of England. Her heart cold from betrayal and filled with hopes for revenge, what would the future hold? Can new warmth melt her iced heart or will past spark ignite once more? This time when two men battle for her heart, the consequence is war. (Queen of France and son after the tower ideas are hardly new to fanfic, but I would like take a new spin on it.)

**Pairings:** Anne/Francis I and Anne/Henry VIII (both in some ways)

**AN:** I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed and/or favorite and/or alerted this story. The support has been very touching!

**Nemesis…the Greek goddess of revenge…**

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**Chapter Six: Truth**

_Truth is often informative. Some truth should be revealed to the world, while for others, it is far better for it to be left unsaid, but it should be noted, whether said or unsaid the truth has the potential to change everything. _

_**December 25**__**th**__**, 1537, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

Anne sat in her chambers with _the Prince_ on her lap. She had tried to read, but she could not concentrate. The King's words in the morning had shocked her to the core. She had only nodded silently in response because she had no idea on what to say, but the King seemed to accept it. In truth, she didn't know if she could believe him. Had he not loved Francoise as well? Was he like Henry who loved what was new?

In her life time, many men had confessed their love for her, she had loved two. The first was Henry Percy, the man that she had wanted to marry if it wasn't her father pushing her into the King's way and his father forcing him to marry another woman, Anne imagined they would have been very happy together. The second was obviously Henry.

They had both betrayed her in a way, although Anne did not fault Henry Percy for his betrayal for he had little choice. Being the 6th Earl of Northumberland, one of the premier earls of England, he had been on the Jury that had convicted her. He had voted guilty, and promptly fainted. He had been carried out afterwards. She had heard that he had been absent for George's trial.

In truth, she didn't know if she believed in love anymore. She had once, but that had almost cost her life. She didn't know if she could trust men in that aspect any longer. She had known Francis in the past, as a little girl and a grown woman. Both times, she had not had the best opinion of the man in regards to carnal relations. Francis had many mistresses, even though he had only one acknowledged long term mistress. What is to say that she was not just another passing fancy?

Yet, did it really matter whether Francis spoke the truth or not? She knew that she did not love Francis; she didn't know if she was capable of loving another. So if Francis loved her, it was only to her advantage. But people in love will always want the affection returned…

* * *

_**December 26**__**th**__**, 1537, Paris, France**_

"What is your name?" asked Cardinal Jean du Bellay, ex-ambassador of France.

The woman before him was about thirty years old. By her fashion she was a peasant. He noted that she was very intimidated by him, which was the point he supposed. He had shown up at her room unannounced with a few man dressed in black guarding the door. "Ma...Marie, Sir," she stuttered.

Bellay nodded; he was in no mood to waste time. The King was not happy and impatient, and when that happened Bellay would certainly not live comfortably. Bellay was a resourceful man who was capable of certain darker aspects of life as a courtier despite his outward friendly appeal. It was the reason that the King made him ambassador so often. When he wasn't he served as the King's ears and eyes at court amongst other roles, positions that would never be openly acknowledged but played a crucial role in the way that politics functioned at court.

He had _persuaded_ Montmorency's servants to recount the traveling plans for the last month. It did not take much _persuasion _to link the fact that it seemed that Diane de Poitiers also visited here only days ago with the fact that the person he was looking for was here. He drew out a large bag of coins, and threw it on the table; a large bang resulted from it making the frazzled woman jump, "Marie," he let the name roll off his tongue, "It has come to light that you have been speaking about our Queen's past."

Marie nodded; "I only said of good things about the Queen!" she spoke urgently.

Bellay paid her no mind, "It is not pleasing to the King to know that people who knew the Queen in the past are gossiping about his wife, people who could easily be manipulated by others to hurt the Queen." From the woman's last sentence and behavior, it seemed that she was fond of the Queen, so he changed his method slightly. After all, he was best at adaptation.

Marie's eyes widened, "Hurt the Queen? I would never!" she responded indignantly. Everyone in France loved their Queen.

"I can see that, Marie," the Ambassador softened his voice ever so slightly as if to offer a small bit of sympathy but still remind her of the danger she is in, "But you do not understand how others may wish to use you to hurt the Queen. She has enemies because people are often jealous. You don't want to a cause of injury to the Queen, do you?"

Marie shook her head vehemently, "NO!"

Bellay smiled at her and picked up the large bag from the table and placed it in her hands, "A gift from the King, for your silence," he was blunt because he wanted no misunderstanding on the woman's part, "The people you spoke to before are not fond of the Queen, do not speak to them or anyone else about the Queen. The money here is more than enough to allow you and your family to live a comfortable life for the rest of your life."

Marie nodded, "I promise, I do not wish any harm to come to the Queen."

"There is one other favor I must ask of you," he said slowly, "the others who were dismissed from the Pisseleu house; do you remember who they all were and where they are?" The next hour was spent with Bellay collecting all the information available from the woman named Marie who was very forthcoming.

When they concluded, Bellay thanked the woman, and before he left the room, he gave her a final warning, "The men outside will escort you and your family out of Paris and to a new home. I hope you understand. I do not wish others to bother you again. But remember, Marie, not a word about the Queen to anyone and nothing about this encounter," his friendly encounter that he had developed over the last hour disappeared momentarily, "I do not wish to visit you again or I will be force to take other actions. Don't become a scapegoat of others." With that said he turned and left the newly frightened woman in the room.

It was a simple tactic. First, intimidate, then ease her into comfortableness by friendly gestures, and follow it with a threat and ending it with blame elsewhere. He was quite certain that Marie would never utter a word of what had happened anymore, if she valued her life. He had made sure she understood that. Money was trivial in matters like this, after all nothing is worth more than one's life.

* * *

_**December 29th, 1537, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"We have a big problem," Anne de Montmorency whispered to Diane de Poitiers urgently in a deserted hallway.

"What problem can there be to wake me at such an hour?" she asked in annoyance. While their plans to turn the King against the Queen had not worked out how she planned, it was a start. According to the Dauphin, the King had not been receptive to hear what he had to say because Anne was pregnant. That was a problem but not too large of a hindrance. Their goal is to stop the influence of the Queen on the King, in order to do that; they only needed to make her lose favor with the King not necessarily needing the King to order her death. Child or no child matters little. Despite what the King claimed, she had no doubt that they had at least planted a seed of doubt in his mind.

Montmorency scowled at her disinterest, "I went to see Marie, today, but when I got to the inn, she was nowhere to be found."

Diane arched a brow, "Perhaps she went to spend some of the money you gave her."

"I mean she was _nowhere_ to be found, disappeared without a trace, all her belongings gone. I asked the innkeeper about it, and he responded rather oddly, now that I think about it. Nevertheless, he told me that she had left three days ago, without a word."

His statement had finally gotten the full attention of Diane, "Disappeared? How and why? Did someone else visit her?"

Montmorency shook his head, "Not according to the Inn Keeper, but Diane, my instinct is that someone did, someone who scared him enough to keep silent, even with offers of money."

"Perhaps you didn't offer him enough money," she speculated.

He shook his head, "I offered him more than he would make for twenty years. I feel as if he was scared rather than greedy."

"But who else would know about this? We have been very quiet on this matter."

"There are only four people in this world who knew about her and of her importance: you, me, the Dauphin, and the King. We certainly did not remove her, what about the Dauphin," possibilities started to form in Montmorency's mind quickly.

Diane shook her head, "No, the Dauphin had decided to be quiet about the matter since finding out about her condition. He has been busy with court appearances for Christmas and preparing for New Years. He would have told me if he intended to remove her."

Montmorency felt the color leave his face as one final possibility started to look more and more realistic, "Then that leaves…"

"The King," Diane finished for him. For the first time, there was some fear in her voice. They both were seasoned courtiers who fully understood the implications behind such a removal. "I don't understand, why?"

"He loves her," Montmorency spoke breathlessly. It was the only reason that he could think of.

"But he has not even talked to Marie! How could he just rule out the possibility that she may be Anne Boleyn? Henri said that the King had thought she was a disgruntled servant who was left jobless by the Duke of Étampes, but I was sure that at least some doubts had been planted."

"Disgruntled? One servant without a job may be disgruntled, but not with others. We will have to move and find the others. If we present the King with so many, he would have no choice but to believe us."

Diane nodded, but they would have to tread carefully now. If the King was protecting her, then they would need thick and solid evidence before approaching the King again.

* * *

_**January 30**__**th**__**, 1538 Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Your Majesty," Cardinal Bellay greeted the King of France with a bow.

Francis nodded in acknowledgement. They were meeting privately, such that Francis knew exactly what his former ambassador had to say, "The matter of disgruntled servants has been taken care of."

Francis arched a brow; it was rather quick movement even for Bellay, "All of them?"

Bellay nodded, "I relocated the most dangerous one, those that had the most contact with her, but I left others who saw her rarely in Picardy, it would raise suspicions if the Duke's old servants all disappeared suddenly. The Duke's other servants that made it past the dismissal are very loyal."

Francis nodded in approval, "And you have ensured that they will not talk?"

"The servant that spoke to the Dauphin will not talk. With the others, I had judged it more dangerous to warn them not to speak. For the ones that were relocated, the situation was manipulated enough for them to believe that they had made their own choice. They do not know about the situation and it would raise questions as to why I am asking for their silence. The same can be said for the ones left in Picardy. I left two of my men in Picardy in case other goes looking where they should not," he explained to the King.

"Has others gone looking?" Francis questioned, he knew the answer from Bellay's tone.

Bellay nodded, "Lord Anne de Montmorency has sent more men to Picardy. I was given permission to care of the servant situation, but I seek Your Majesty's advice on this matter. I have only stalled the investigation by his men. He and Lady Diane de Poitiers were the ones who met and introduced the servant to the Dauphin."

Francis did not immediately respond. Montmorency was useful to him, capable and loyal to France. Diane de Poitiers…was favored by his son, someone he had thought with enough of a shrewd mind to be of some influence and aid to Henri. Yet if he left them alone, it would not be long before Bellay's effort would have gone to waste. It was a matter of time before they needed to be dealt with. He really should curb the threat before it completely corrupts his son. "Do what you see fit." He dismissed Bellay with a wave of his hand.

When he was left alone he got up and poured himself a drink. He had never outright stated what he knew, but he and Bellay had an understanding. Bellay knew better than to question him straightforwardly, but Francis had no doubt that Bellay had more than a guess. In truth, his suspicions of Anne de Pisseleu's real identity had never ceased, but rather he had admitted temporary defeat when he had little evidence and far more important thing to worry about when they had met initially. Then he needed her to win back Paris. By that time, it was too late to do anything, even if it became known of who she was. It would be the greatest scandal in the history of Europe if his Queen used to be the convicted Queen of another. France could not afford such a scandal, not when they were on the edge of a golden world, a world where France would become the superpower of Europe and beyond. Anne still served the same purpose she had served at the beginning of their marriage. The only difference now was his feelings for her. All of this meant that he did not need to know Anne's past or doubts about her identity, but that didn't mean he didn't know. Francis prided himself with his very subtle observational skills.

Initially, it had been suspicion that he had not voiced since meeting her, but those doubts were confirmed easily. Anne was a good actress, but not as good of an actress as she believed herself to be. His suspicions had increased when he mentioned about Jane Seymour's marriage to Henry Tudor. Her breathing had gotten erratic and her body had tensed. She had been furious, the reason behind it, he could only draw one conclusion. Although she had tried every hard to keep in control, the changes were long enough for him to catch sight of.

From that point on, he made sure to inform her all about England. In a way it was to offer her a peace of mind, and also served for him to judge her reactions. The next time he had mentioned England was in regards to the English Envoy, Charles Brandon. He knew that Anne was well aware of who he was. He had partially asked her to join him in his greeting to the ambassador and the special envoy, the other reason was because he wanted to see if she actually would. Charles Brandon knew Anne Boleyn well, and it was of little surprise that she had excused herself in subtle fashion.

From the time they spent together on September 7th, he recalled her being especially moody. Later he would recall that the date was Elizabeth Tudor's birthday. Her interaction with Charles and Margaret was also informative. He had noted that Anne had the unmistaken look of a mother in her eyes. She had needed no time to adjust herself with the idea of becoming a mother. To his knowledge, Anne de Pisseleu had been married once, but the marriage had last little time and she was never pregnant. But Anne Boleyn had two children.

Her interaction with Charles Brandon had been interesting. There was no doubt that the Duke had been utterly shocked at the sight of Anne and she had been uncomfortable receiving his audience. She had played her part well, but Francis knew what he had been looking for.

He had hinted to her that she needed to be careful in the selection of her ladies in waiting because of her special circumstance. Then, her reaction to Anne Boleyn's son had been as expected as always. By the time he was reading her the letter from the Ambassador he had already no doubt in his mind of who Anne used to be. But he knew better than to reveal it. No good at all would come from that. Anne as Anne de Pisseleu was a hero in the French people's eyes, and sometimes the truth may just need to be hidden in order to keep the hearts of the people. Anne as Anne Boleyn would be a diplomatic nightmare, and the people of France would feel utterly betrayed by the monarchy. Thus he would never reveal her identity and would become her silent enforcer, to see that her identity remained forever a secret. He would never admit out loud to anyone about what he knew, for other wise he could not ignore the crime that it was. His love for her had little to do with this decision. He was a King before he was her husband.

If only his son could fully grasp everything, then he would finally feel fully confident to leave things in his hands in time. But that did not seem to be the case. He was still too young and too inexperienced and thus easily manipulated by the courtiers that surrounded him. Yet experience only comes with time. His first son Francois had been ready, but he had died, pushing Henri, a prince not prepared for the role into his position. There was much he must learn still.

* * *

_**February 2**__**nd**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau**_

Cardinal Bellay had debated on which to approach, Diane de Poitiers or Anne de Montmorency. Eventually the answer had become clear to him. While Diane de Poitiers was a formidable part of their plans, without Montmorency, she could do little. He was the one with the men and power to send out. Without his help, she could only speculate.

"My Lord," he smiled warmly at Montmorency as he led him to the table. The Marshal of France had accepted his invite to dinner quickly. It was no surprise there. While Montmorency was greatly favored by the King for his military and political mind, he did not share the same understanding that Bellay had with the French King. Montmorency knew of the different kind of trust that the King placed in only a very few select individuals, and thus often endeared himself to them. "I thank you for dining with me on such short notice," he told him as they both took their seat.

"It is my great pleasure to spend the evening with friendly company," Montmorency replied politely.

Bellay made small talk as the servants served them dinner. He did not wish for them to hear the conversation. Servants were often the cause that information at court never stayed secret. By the time they had finished their courses, he dismissed the servants and the only thing left on the table was their wine. It was then that Bellay finally began to address the issue, "I heard that you had sent men to Picardy."

The statement had caused Montmorency to look up from his wine in alarm. He took a few seconds before responding, "There was some business I had to attend to there. Trivial matters really, regarding some of my estates and holdings there."

The answer was vague, "I see. How did it go?"

"Not well, I had recently lost an important asset, but it will be a matter of time really, before I regain some others," he responded.

Bellay nodded with a smile, but his voice became quiet and lower, "You will find that your _business_ is not in the interest of the King. Perhaps you should just concede defeat in the loss of one asset, rather than risk the King's fiery and lose a much more important asset." He gave him a pointed look, the friendly smiled never leaving his face, but Bellay had no doubt that Montmorency was starting to find the smile more than disconcerting by now.

Montmorency was a well experienced courtier, and thus simple intimidation was of little use on the man. It would be much more effective to leave interpretations loose to his imagination. The creepiness of his actions served to enhance the image he wanted to produce. It was clear that this tactic was working as the Marshal seemed to be more frazzled. "My _business_ is not in the interest of the King? But I conduct my _businesses_ with _his_ interest in mind."

"No doubt that you would feel that way, but what is to say that you understand what exactly the King's _interests _are? What if you misunderstood?" Bellay pointed out evenly.

"What do you believe the king's interests are? Has the King informed you?" asked Montmorency.

Bellay nodded, "Why, the same interests as France of course!" Bellay responded in a tone that made it seem that this was obvious, "Your current _business_ will hurt the King's _asset_, and of course that might make your lordship lose your most important_ asset_." He drove the message hope by gesturing to the Marshal's head. Montmorency nodded with a tight smile. Bellay poured him another drink.

* * *

_**February 3**__**rd**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"It appears we must cease our investigations into the Queen's past," Montmorency whispered to Diane de Poitiers at the Banquet in honor of the Queen's pregnancy which has finally been officially announced although everyone at court already knew.

Diane looked at him in confusion, "Why?"

"Bellay informed me that the King was displeased by our investigation," he explained honestly.

"But he made no public order for us to stop," she noted.

He nodded, "The King would make no such order if he wished to keep things quiet."

"But how can you be sure that Bellay is carrying out the orders of the King? What if he is doing it out of his own interest? After all, we have nothing from the King to indicate this," Diane questioned,

"You are right, but Bellay does not have the courage to lie about orders from the King right under his nose. He would not risk us directly approaching his majesty about the situation. He is telling the truth," Montmorency concluded.

"But why is he protecting her? Is his Majesty so in love with her that he has no suspicions?" she asked.

Montmorency shook his head, "I can't be certain, but Bellay's tone suggested that His Majesty views her as an asset of France currently, To touch her would be against the interest of France."

"The interest of France?" Diane repeated in question, "She is viewed by the common people as a hero. They love her. To out her would be catastrophic for the Monarchy." It suddenly made sense, "If he thinks that expressing concerns for Anne de Pisseleu's background was dangerous, then he must have more than a few suspicions about her identity himself," then it donned on her, "His Majesty doesn't suspect, he knows!"

Montmorency felt himself pale despite the fact that he had also came to the same conclusion, but to hear it said out lout, only made it truly real, "We will have to find another approach if we wish to continue with our plans." He had the courage to go against the Queen, but hardly against the King, especially as he had to admit the King was right, their actions are a threat to France.

"It confirms her identity though," Diane pointed out. While they were nearly sure that the Queen was Anne Boleyn of England, there had always been somewhat of a doubt present as they could hardly believe such a scandal had actually happened. It was nearly impossible for a woman to become Queen twice over, "It calls into question of the legitimacy of her marriage to the King and her position as Queen."

Montmorency laughed humorlessly, "But that all doesn't matter anymore. The King may very well have known before he even married her. She is far more useful as his Queen than another rival's. Besides, you forget, Anne Boleyn is _dead, _even if she wasn't, King Henry annulled their marriage."

Diane snorted, it was of little secret that she had a rather low opinion of the King of England. He had been an idiot to set aside a Princess twice over, no matter how much she hated Spaniards, a princess was a princess. He had set aside his wife for years for another woman. Diane had to acknowledge that she had a grudging respect for the woman who changed a Kingdom. But nevertheless, she was not able to hold on to her husband's affections. Henry VIII had made a fool out of himself when he set aside the woman that he had torn his kingdom apart for. He was made a laughing stock in the rest of Europe when he decided to kill his second wife with a charge of adultery. Charges so ludicrous that even people in France could see right through it. Then after Diane didn't think his intelligence could sink any lower, he had his marriage to his second wife annulled before her execution. It was idiocy at best. For someone who desperately wanted an heir and secure the succession, he had bastardized two of his daughters, ones that he could have made alliances with had they still been princess. Not to mention, how could his wife commit adultery if they were never married? Even if she had committed adultery, it only reflected badly on the King of England, he was obviously not able to satisfy his wife that she had to seek comfort elsewhere. There was no gain in his actions.

Nevertheless, Anne Boleyn, whatever her marriage status to the King of France was, there was one point that Diane could not let go, "She had been crowned Queen in England. She was an anointed Queen."

Montmorency nodded, "But so was the Katherine of Aragon, yet she was forced to die in exile. The English King had made himself the most powerful man in England, his word is law.

Diane suddenly started laughing as a strange thought struck her, "Imagine what if the King of England met our new Queen. It would certainly be more entertaining than fireworks."

Montmorency sighed, "Fireworks it may be, but what will it do to France?"

* * *

_**February 5**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"You must return to your wife's bed," Diane urged her lover once again.

Henri, the Dauphin sighed, "Must you always do this?" He just wanted to spend time in her company, yet each time she always begged him to return to his wife's bed, a wife he found unappealing.

"You must provide a son as the Dauphin of France. You are fertile, you have proved that to your father, but it is little secret at Court that you have abandoned Catherine's bed. The King says nothing now, but surely you can feel his displeasure. He may be unhappy with Catherine in the aspect that she has not provided an heir, but it takes two to make a child, Henri. You will soon feel the displeasure of the King if you do not return, especially as the King does not seem to have any intention of setting Catherine aside. You are stuck with her and you must have a son with her."

"You have made the same case before. We have tried for the first three years of our marriage; there has been no heir, not even a daughter, what difference would it make now?" Henri retorted with slightly annoyance.

Diane sighed, "Your brother, the Duke of Orleans is growing up. Already many courtiers favor his outspoken personality. You do not want to offer your father any more reason to replace you. If you do not have a son, Charles becomes the heir presumptive and how can you be sure that someone won't be ambitious enough to skip you all together."

Henri sighed as he finally conceded defeat after months of persuasion by Diane, "Fine, if it will make you happy and simply just enjoy our times together, I will return to her bed," his face scowled. In a way he respected Catherine as his consort, but he could hardly accept her as a companion let alone a lover.

It may have been odd for a mistress to urge her lover to visit his wife's bed often, but that was the relationship that Diane and Henry shared. Catherine de Medici was a cousin of Diane, and she would much rather that Catherine remained as Henri's consort than someone else. It was simple really, Catherine was rather plain and Henri was far from attracted to the woman leaving his sole attention to her. If Henri divorced Catherine and married some pretty new princess, the outcome became uncontrollable. Besides, Catherine was family wasn't she? All three of them knew exactly how important it was that a legitimate Prince is born.

* * *

_**February 15**__**th**__**, 1538, Hever Castle, England**_

He went riding to clear his mind. His son's recent illness had offered him little breathing space. He had almost been lured into a false sense of security as the child remained healthy for almost two month. He had even started to plan the ceremony to crown Edward as the Prince of Wales, but it was not to be. His most recent illness almost took him away from him, leaving Henry terrified.

This had happened three times already. Every time he wanted to invest the boy with the title of Prince of Wales, he gets sick. He was beginning to think that maybe god was trying to tell him something. Now that he thought back on it, Jane had never received a coronation because a plague had broken out in London. There were just too many coincidences. Yet Jane had given him a son, but then again so had Bessy Blount.

He sighed with frustration and urged his horse on. He knew that his doubts came because he had had a tough week, and a little country air would do him a lot of good. As he rode farther and farther away from the palace, he become quickly aware that he had started to take a well known path that he had not taken in a long time, the path to Hever castle.

When he arrived unannounced at the home of his ex-father-in-law he had given him and his family quite a scare. Thomas Boleyn had quickly rushed out to greet him while frantic ordering servants to ready the house for a visit from the King. As he was warmly ushered in, Henry noticed that the place had changed greatly since his visits when he had been wooing Anne. Now, it seemed that Thomas Boleyn had hardly the funds to live as he once had. Half of the servants that ushered around the room last time were gone. Several decorative pieces were also missing from the mantles. No doubt that the Boleyns had suffered a hard financial hit after the fall of Anne.

"Can I offer your majesty a drink?" asked Thomas Boleyn, the Earl of Wiltshire with a bow.

Henry nodded, "Please." It felt rather odd to speak to the man again. While Henry had given Thomas permission to return to court months ago, he had had no interest in him. He had brought the man back simply because Norfolk claimed he needed some assistance. Henry in actually could not care less. They had not spoken to each other since the man's return to court, except two weeks prior when the man had asked permission of return home because his mother had been gravely ill.

Thomas quickly poured him a drink, his best wine, from his cabinet and offered it to the King. Henry took it with a nod, "Thank You," he took a sip of his wine. Everything felt so strange yet familiar. There was a pregnant silence that left Henry feeling uncomfortable, "How is your mother?" he asked instead.

Thomas Boleyn bowed, "She is well now, thank you, your majesty."

Henry nodded again, feeling awkward again. He didn't know what to say to the man. He didn't know how to act. He had killed the man's son and ordered his daughter's death. In these days, he had never thought of the possibility of Anne's innocence. He had been so convinced of her guilt, but he could not deny that he missed her. He missed her fire and the way that only she could incite such passion in him. But now that he was sitting in Thomas's house, the house that Anne had grown up in, he felt slightly sick to his stomach. But why should he? She was found guilty by the Court and she had died not because of him but because of an accident. Yet that gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach would not go away.

The awkward silence continued and was finally broken by the laughter of a small child. The noise jogged Henry out of his thoughts. "What was that?" he found himself asking his host.

Thomas Boleyn seemed to be slightly surprised, "It is William and his nurse, Your Majesty. He likes to play outside around this time," the Earl explained.

"William?" Henry questioned, there was something in his stomach again, but he didn't want to admit to it, "Who is William?"

Thomas Boleyn replied in a calm voice, "William is my grandson."

Henry knew that George had no children, "Is he Mary's son?"

The Earl almost rolled his eyes, the King was coward, but then again so was he. Any braver man would have avenged his family, but here he was bowing low to the man that murdered his heir. He had put his dignity away for his ambition, and he was going to get what he wanted, "No, he is Anne's son."

The answer really had not been a surprise for him. Anne's son had become a ward of the man after all. "I wish to see him."

Thomas nodded, and left the room with a bow to retrieve his grandson. The King's visit was a surprise, and left him with little time to make any plans. Nevertheless he had managed to ensure that the King had heard William after instructing his nurse on what to do. It didn't take long to pick up his grandson from his nurse and bring him before the King.

William was just over a year old and was rather curious of everything. He stared at the man that he had never seen before for several moments before quickly losing interest in him and played with his grandfather's collar instead.

While William was too young to feel the tension in the room, the two adults were not. The King could not take his eyes off of the young boy, a boy who was nearly the splitting image of himself but with Anne's eyes and dark hair. The resemblance between them was uncanny, so much that there was no denying the fact that William was his son.

He approached the boy carefully. "May I?" he asked the Earl who nodded and handed the boy over to the King. William was bit surprised by the shift in the person carrying him but quickly got over it as his new carrier seemed to have much more interesting things to play with, tugging on his collar, and pretty pieces on his cloth.

King Henry felt slightly in awe. The boy was strong; he could feel it, far healthier than Edward. It was a pity that he had been born to Anne. If he had been Jane's son, he would have been more than proud to invest him with the title of Prince of Wales, "Hello William," it was the first time he had spoken to him.

William's small hands found its way into the King's hair and tugged with a sudden jerk in response, making his father cringe with pain.

* * *

_**March 12**__**th**__**, 1538, Hampton Court, England**_

Edward stormed into the Queen's room in hurried steps, with Thomas trailing begrudgingly behind him. This sudden entrance sent the Queen's ladies in a flurry of surprise, quickly gathering up their needle work to prepare for the visitor. The Queen's brother always failed to follow protocol when calling on the Queen, but this had happened so often that they have become rather accustomed to it.

"We need to speak to your majesty in private," he spoke urgently to Jane.

Jane nodded and everyone but Elizabeth Cromwell nee Seymour stayed, "What is it?" She did not keep the tone of annoyance out of her voice. Edward and Thomas were her family, but she was the Queen of England. She wished that they would at least pay mind to the respect that they needed to offer for her position. Do they not understand that others often whisper but the impropriety of their actions often? They were the brothers of the Queen, and Jane desperately wished that they would set a good example to the rest of the court. But alas, it seemed that favor had gone to their heads.

Edward scowled fiercely, "How can you just sit here?" he picked up the pillow piece that Jane had been embroidering and frowned with disgust, "sewing, when your husband is bringing his bastard son to court?" he threw the piece away, letting it clatter to the floor.

Jane felt her eyes wide, "Bastard son?"

Thomas nodded grimly, "It appears that the King has decided to acknowledge the Whore's son as his own," under normal circumstance he would have made a jest about the boy being the result of an incestuous union, but even Thomas knew that Anne Boleyn had been innocent of the crimes that she had been charged with.

"He is acknowledging him?" Jane asked.

Edward looked at her in annoyance, "Must you repeat everything we say? Yes, the King has told servants to prepare for the arrival of and I quote, his son."

Jane gasped. She could not believe the turn of events. Only months ago, the King had never mentioned the boy, but now he was bring him to court, "Why?" she whispered.

"Why else? Because Prince Edwards health causes the King great concern," Edward told Jane.

"Is he to take the name Fitzroy then?" asked Thomas.

Edward shook his head, "The King has made no statement in regards to the last name the boy shall have."

"What other name can a bastard expect to receive?" Elizabeth questioned,

"Tudor," the answer came from Edward. It was a speculation really but it made the occupants of the room all gasp in surprise at the scandalous nature of such a statement.

"But he is a bastard! Lady Elizabeth was allowed to keep the name Tudor because she had been wrongfully known as a princess at the time of her birth, but the King knows better now," argued Thomas.

"That may be the case, but the King may have another intention if he gives the boy the name of Tudor," Edward explained, "Jane's health has not recovered to conceive yet and the Prince Edward's health has been shaky at best. He wishes to prepare for the worst. This may involve legitimizing his bastard son."

"Legitimize?" Elizabeth gasped this time, "But he is a bastard! The King cannot legitimatize him!"

Edward snorted, "Sister, you forget that the King is the most powerful man in this country. He can do as he pleases."

Elizabeth shook her head in denial, "But the people would never accept the harlot's son as a legitimate Prince."

Edward arched a brow, "You will find, sister, that the people may be more receptive than you believe. While the people bored little love for the harlot, her death did not sit well with them. Even Master Cromwell had to admit that the harlot's sudden death after giving birth had been costly to the Monarchy. Most common people knew that the charges against the harlot to be ludicrous. They had not believed that she had committed adultery; their only disgust with her was because of Katherine. Now, with the harlot dead, her children are free of the taint from her. The people will soon forget the offenses of the mother when they can only see the connection of the father and children. Not to mention, they would much rather have a healthy and lively prince than a sickly and hidden prince."

"Children? Do you think the King plans to restore Lady Elizabeth to the line of succession as well?" asked Thomas.

"She was innocent?" Jane asked with her eyes wide, completely ignoring the path of conversation that the rest of her family had followed.

Edward shrugged, "Nothing has been decided. We may be all over thinking this. The King could very well have no intention of doing anything to the boy other than perhaps bestowing a few titles on him. He has not forgotten the harlot's _crimes_." Edward turned to his sister, the Queen, "There may only be three people who believes that the Whore was actually guilty. Lady Mary is one, because of her hatred for the Whore; it was her duty to hate the harlot because of her mother. You are another. Sister, you have been at court long enough, surely you can see what's real and what's not by now? The last one is the King himself. He had deluded himself into believing the charges he had triumphed up. Every once in awhile, he may have some doubts when his guilt over rides him, but he always convinces himself otherwise eventually. If the boy had not looked so much like him, he would have never acknowledged that he was his son."

"But a court tried her," Jane argued. She was still in disbelief.

"A court who does what the King wants for favor," Edward told her, "They would likely convict us of treason for something we had done before we were even born if it pleased the King. Everyone knew that the King had wanted the whore dead so he could marry you. They gave him what he wanted."

A hand flew to Jane's mouth. They had never talked about Anne Boleyn's crimes and trials, so Jane had always believed that since she had been found guilty at a court of law, then she must have been guilty. Then there was the King's reactions, he was always thrown into fits of temper whenever she was mentioned. Jane had been so sure that while the King might have missed her, he had hated her as well. She had always believed that his hate was because he had felt betrayed by Mistress Boleyn. She had been so sure…a husband knows his wife best, and Jane had thought if the King had believed in Mistress Boleyn's guilt then it must be true.

She felt strange knowing the truth. She didn't know if she wanted to know. Since she had met Mistress Boleyn, she had disliked her, because of what she had done to the Great Queen Katherine and poor Princess Mary. Despite signing the oath, she had still believed Katherine to be Queen, never seeing Anne Boleyn as the King's wife. When the King started to pursue her, she had been so flattered, but she had also been terrified. Scared of what Anne Boleyn would do. Much to her relieve, the King was able to protect her from the worst of woman's actions. Then the woman had been arrested. She had felt so sorry for the King then, how much hurt he must have gone through to have someone he trusted betray him.

She disliked Boleyn but she didn't want someone innocent to die. The King had done it for her…did that make her guilty as well? Was this the reason that God was punishing her son now? But her son was innocent; he should not pay for his parent's sins, just like Lady Elizabeth should not pay for her mother's sins. She could comfort herself with the fact that God had not taken her son from them though, for that would have sealed all of their fates.

So did she feel guilty now that she knew the truth? Perhaps she did a little. She wondered if she would have done something different back then if she had known Anne Boleyn was innocent. Would she have told the King? Her family would never have permitted her to. But that was just a cover. If Jane was honest with herself, she would have to admit that she would choose to remain silent as well. She had wanted to be Queen. That was the simple truth. She had fallen in love with the King and she had wanted to be his wife. Was it wrong to fight for her happiness and love? Was it wrong to have ambitions of becoming Queen? Did this make her a bad person? Jane didn't know. After all, was she not being punished now? Forced to watch her husband parade his bastard son of her rival around. Forced to watch her husband frolicking with others. Would she be forced to allow her own son to be put aside if the King wishes to make her rival's son Prince? She had thought that when she married the King of England, she would be the happiest woman alive, but Jane couldn't help but notice that she was hardly happy.

_**March 14**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Your Majesty," Adrien de Pisseleu, the Duke of Etampes bowed to his 'daughter.'

Anne smiled and rose from her seat to greet him, "Father."

"May I ask your permission to speak to Your Majesty privately?" asked the Duke formally.

Anne nodded immediately and dismissed her ladies with a wave of her hand, "What is it?" The Duke never asked to speak to her privately.

"I went back to Picardy to attend to certain matters of my house a few days prior and it has come to my attention that others have looked into the matter of your past identity. In fact, according to others, Marie came to Paris in December and soon after, her entire family disappeared. Since then, many of my past servants that I had dismissed just before Anne's death also left Picardy. In such a short amount of time, I feel something strange has been going on," he explained his concerns.

Alarm bells had started to ring in Anne's head long before Adrien finished his explanation. She had not known that Diane and Montmorency had struck so quickly, "I will see to it," she needed to get to the bottom of this matter quickly. She had a feeling that something was not adding up right. Nevertheless, while the King still showed her great favor and promised never to ask about her past, Anne wasn't sure what Francis would do if the truth is displayed right in front of his face? He may love her and have been trying hard to please her, she was sure that even he could not ignore the crime for what it was.

Adrien nodded and took out a few letters out of his pocket, "From Thomas Boleyn. I wanted to ignore them because I did not want to be seen writing to him, but there are so many here that I feel that this must also be addressed. I didn't know what to say to him, but I'm sure that you will know what to do."

Anne nodded.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_

There aren't many Anne scenes in this chapter because while she is at the core of the truth being seen, the truth is for the people around her. That and next chapter will be heavily focused on Anne and Francis as the final set up is completed for the war of the Kings.

A few chapters ago, I wrote about how Anne felt about her predecessor, now you see how Jane felt about hers. To be honest, it's all not that different. Jane may be an idiot compared to Anne, and as much as I hated her in season two (constant need to throttle, I mean constantly) I don't believe the real Jane was a bad person. Similarly, Katherine's situation could be blamed on Anne as much as Anne's situation on Jane. I love Anne, but were her and Jane's situations reversed, I don't see her coming forth about her rival's innocence either. No one is perfect after all. So I tried to write a Jane that was more three dimensional than the one in season two. That being said, Anne will not see things as I do. I am a third party who although biased, am still not in the situation. Anne has gone through too much not to hate Henry and Jane. There are just things once done that could not be taken back. This is a revenge fic after all…

Bellay kind of morphed into a new person, I kind of had fun with that.

Please **review! **Let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, what was done right, what wasn't. I really like to hear my reader's view on the story. Constructive Criticism is also welcome.

I posted this chapter so quickly because I am going on a trip for a few days and likely won't have internet or my computer. When I return, I will be attending to three exams, so the earliest next update would be next Sunday. So I gave away a few hours of sleep and this is my present to you all for all of your support for this story.

Until next time,

Cruelangel


	8. Chapter 7: Allies

**Title: Nemesis**

**Author: **Cruelangel101

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...Not the characters, not the show, and certainly not the production company…can anyone own history?**

**Detailed Summary:** Starting from the scene where Anne watched her brother's execution, Anne finds herself pregnant with the King's child. They thought she was saved, but the King still enraged and determined to marry Jane Seymour, chose to believe the child was the offspring of one of the executed man. Anne's execution was determined to proceed after the birth of her child. A plot from an unexpected family member, rescued her from the tower and in the most bizarre chain of events she ended up as the Queen of France. All the while her rival Jane Seymour rises to the position of Queen of England. Her heart cold from betrayal and filled with hopes for revenge, what would the future hold? Can new warmth melt her iced heart or will past spark ignite once more? This time when two men battle for her heart, the consequence is war. (Queen of France and son after the tower ideas are hardly new to fanfic, but I would like take a new spin on it.)

**Pairings:** Anne/Francis I and Anne/Henry VIII (both in some ways)

**AN:** I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed and/or favorite and/or alerted this story. The support has been very touching and keeps the story going!

Sorry about the wait, but I wrote an extra long chapter for you guys, hope you like it!

**Nemesis…the Greek goddess of revenge…**

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Allies**

_Greatness cannot be accomplished alone. Behind every successful and capable ruler is always an intricate web of allies. _

_**March 14**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

_Adrien nodded and took out a few letters out of his pocket, "From Thomas Boleyn. I wanted to ignore them because I did not want to be seen writing to him, but there are so many here that I feel that this must also be addressed. I didn't know what to say to him, but I'm sure that you will know what to do."_

_Anne nodded._

She placed the letters on the table next to her, making a mental note to deal with them before her ladies came back inside, and turned her attention back to Adrien, "Were you successful in your other business at Picardy?"

The Duke nodded, "Did you want to meet them?"

Anne shook her head, "I suppose it would be better if I didn't. You are assured of their loyalty though?"

The Duke nodded again, "Yes, I selected each of them personally, saving their lives one way or another, I am sure of their loyalty. They will die before they betray us for they know that they and their families will perish with us should anything happen."

Anne smiled, "Then please start the process." The only way to describe what she had planned was it was dangerous, but she had no choice. This was what she had decided on when she married Francis, and this was what she must do. It was her duty to herself and her children. She had been surprised that Adrien de Pisseleu had agreed to help, but really she should not have been. The Duke of Étampes was a smart man and he knew that his prosperity relied on Anne. He may have had his reservations initially about coming to court, but once he arrived and had a taste of power being the father of the Queen, there was no going back.

Power was a dangerous temptation. Once you have had it, you will never want to give it up even if you had to do the strangest of things. Adrien and her fate were tied together, and Anne knew that he would never betray her, for to do so would be to betray himself. It was relieving in a way. While she could get help with the dangerous of the French court from the new friends she had made, she had no one to talk to, to plan with about her past. He was her only confidant.

Adrien bowed, "Thank you," Anne told him softly.

He nodded jerkily, it was clear he was still not completely comfortable with the idea, but he will satisfy her wishes because of who she has become. After all, Adrien was a practical man.

* * *

_**March 15**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Lady Poitiers and Lord Montmorency have been scheming," Queen Anne told Lord Brosse quietly as the two of them strolled through a maze.

Brosse nodded, "I have informed your Majesty of it before."

Anne smiled, "Yes, thank you, have you heard about what they are scheming about?"

Brosse shook his head, "I am unsure. They were very secretive, but it does seem that they have stopped their frequent meetings for now."

"Do you know why?" asked the Queen.

Brosse stopped walking and turned to Anne, "I don't suppose your Majesty would have heard of the rumors yet. The King has an effective way of putting an end to them," he laughed, Anne looked at him in confusion, "It is my belief that they stopped because they were forced to. There is only one person at Court that has the power to stop the courtiers from doing things, at least on the surface."

"The King," Anne concluded for him.

Brosse nodded, "The King has always been very informed about the happening of court. Rumors say that he has spies everywhere, courtiers that are strictly loyal to him. They carry out the less pleasant tasks for him and are awarded most kindly. This may be one those matters."

"His most loyal servants," she concluded, "You are not one of them?" she joked.

Brosse laughed, "I am afraid that I do not have such an honor." She had a suspicion of just who a few of them are.

Anne nodded, "Would you like to be mine then?" laughter gone now.

Brosse did not reply immediately and just stared at Anne for a few moments as if trying to figure her out. Anne knew that it was dangerous to be so forward, but she was out of time. The King could know about Marie and her past already. That was something Anne could not afford. Lord Brosse had been her friend since she had first arrived at court, if she could not trust him with this, there was no one else that she could trust save for Adrien of course, but Anne have learned not to place all of her riches in one gamble.

Finally, Brosse smiled, and bowed, kissing her hand, "It will be my pleasure, your Majesty." Anne smiled. In court there are only three ways to rise above everyone else. One was to be in favor of the King and another was to be in favor with the future King, the Dauphin. Brosse was in favor with the King, but he was not as close of a confidant as he would like and he was hardly best friends with the Dauphin. Courtiers are very practical people. The King already have his own group of most trusted, thus that left him truly only the last way, to be in favor with the Queen. Queen Anne was new to court and did not have the strong bonds that the King and Dauphin had established. Such that Brosse would be a fool to pass up the chance, not to mention, she was a very capable woman.

* * *

_**March 16**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Is the soup not to your tastes? We can send it back and have them bring something else," Francis told Anne with a hint of concern in his voice as he watched his wife barely touch her food.

In truth, Anne felt too preoccupied to eat. Adrien de Pisseleu's words never left her mind. If Diane de Poitiers and Anne de Montmorency had really found evidence that she was not Anne de Pisseleu, would they not have informed the King? If they did, why had he taken no action? "It is fine," she told Francis.

Francis arched a brow, "You have barely eaten anything. Is there anything wrong?"

Anne shook her head, "No, I have just been thinking."

"About?" Francis asked.

"I have noticed that Diane de Poitiers and Lord Montmorency seem to have a great dislike for me. I feel that they are plotting against me," she told Francis honestly. In part, it was also because she needed Francis to know about the rivalry between them in case he does not know about Marie yet. This way, he could at least suspect their plots against her is only because they hate her and not because it is the truth,

Francis took a sip of his wine, "You are their Queen, and as their Queen you may teach them to learn of their place if they step out of line. You need not fear them. Don't forget who you are."

"I am aware of my position, and it is because of my position that inspires such jealousy. Rumors already follow me everywhere because I am Queen, I fear that they will only add to it," said Anne quietly.

"Rumors? I have already told you Anne, I will not question you or doubt you about your past. I will not allow anyone else to do so as well. You may rest assured on such matters. Should they spread any unsightly rumors, they will be dealt with, I give you this promise," Francis told her softy.

"What if they convinced Your Majesty of it?" asked Anne.

Francis laughed, "I love you and trust you, Anne, don't you trust me?"

Anne blinked and actually pondered the question. Did she trust Francis? She didn't really trust his words about love because he was a man and a King, but as a friend and a ruler, she supposed that she did. She trusted him to listen to her and to respect her much more than she trusted Henry.

At Anne's momentary silence, Francis sighed, "Anne, we both have a past that that did not have the other in it, but that is the past; we have each other now. I would like to cherish that. What is in the past, let it stay in the past. If your past has _bad memories_ would it not be even better to leave it in the past and unsaid? I shall protect you from it for we need not _taint_ the present. You are the Queen of France _now, _and you have a bright future ahead. Let us think of more pleasant thoughts, no?"

Anne blinked again. Her heart raced, somehow she understood Francis's message. He knew. That was already clear. He was being subtle about it, but in a way he was telling her that he knew but was going to protect her nevertheless. It confused Anne, but it also let her let out a sigh of relief. At the very least, she need not worry about her head because of her past. He knew her secret and although they would never talk about it, Anne felt closer to Francis than before. It was all rather anticlimactic really. She had supposed that if he had ever found out, there would be an emotional and large scene, but that was hardly the case now. It made sense though. Francis would never openly acknowledge that he married Anne Boleyn.

She nodded her head, "Yes, more pleasant things," she smiled brightly at Francis, "Thank you," she told him earnestly.

Francis nodded silently. There were no other words he needed to say on this matter.

* * *

_**March 17**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"What does Your Majesty think of Admiral Chabot and Cardinal Tournon?" Lord Brosse asked the Queen.

Anne thought back to the day that they had met, she had a good impression of them, "They are powerful men," she noted.

Lord Brosse nodded in agreement, "Yes, perhaps arrangements could be made to ally with them?"

"Can they be trusted?" asked the Queen.

Lord Brosse nodded, "They are friends and they have a rather good impression of Your Majesty, but the most important part is that they are rivals of Anne de Montmorency."

"Very well," she concluded, "make use of discretion though." They could not be trusted with the most important matters yet, but perhaps they could test the waters of an alliance.

Lord Brosse nodded, "Of Course, Your Majesty."

Anne stopped briefly to look at the new buds on the bushes. It was almost spring time, to think this time two years ago she had been in fear of her position as the Queen of England and now she was Queen of France. Things have indeed changed greatly, "The King is signing a treaty with the Emperor."

"Yes, the Envoy from Spain brought alarming news," Brosse explained, "The Ottoman Empire is moving against the Holy Roman Empire, taking advantage of the Emperor's capture."

"The Ottoman Empire?" Anne asked. She had heard of the name before, but she was not familiar with it because they were so far from England that she never bothered to learn about them.

"They are toward the east, ruled by the Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent. He is a great rival to the Emperor especially around Hungry and Austria, but they are heretics, and thus even the Pope has been pressuring the King lately in releasing the Emperor," Brosse explained.

"Tell me more about this Suleiman," Anne asked. Heretics or not, she knew from Francis's reactions that they were a force to be reckoned with. He did not want them on his door steps. He would much prefer to use the Emperor as a blocking party.

"He is a strong military leader as well as a civil leader. He governs with a strong hand, incredibly capable."

"And his strength in comparison with France's military strength?" Anne asked.

Brosse frowned at the answer he was to give, "We cannot compare. His armies have been in wars and battles constantly, while Francis's army has seen battle but far lack the experience that they have incurred."

"Any weakness that you know of?" asked Anne.

Brosse shook his head, "We do not know too much of the Sultan's affairs as we do not have any direct contact with him. Although his wife is rather famous," the Queen nodded in permission for him to continue, "She was a harem girl named Roxelena, but attract the Sultan's attention and quickly became a favorite of his. She was his concubine but he set aside his wife and his heir for her and her child. She is now known as Hurrem sultan, his legal wife and the mother of his new heir."

"Does she have much political influence over him?" asked Anne.

Brosse nodded, "Her influence is legendary."

Anne smiled, "then she is his weakness."

* * *

_**March 18**__**th**__**, 1538, Hampton Court, England**_

"What is he doing?" asked Lady Elizabeth Cromwell nee Seymour asked as she and her brothers stood by the wall watching the King walk down the hall holding his bastard son from the Harlot in his arms.

"He is showing him off," Edward told them quietly.

"Showing off that he sired another bastard?" asked Elizabeth again.

Edward laugh humorlessly, "Yes, he is showing off that he has sired _a healthy_ son, his image."

"Are we just expected to watch this? This is a great insult to the Queen," Thomas Seymour hissed to his siblings.

"Jane will just have to endure this silently, this is her fate. Katherine endured it when the King toasted his other bastard son. She had to watch him bestow the title of Duke on him. Jane will likely have to do the same," Edward said coldly.

"Will His Majesty bestow titles on him?" asked Elizabeth.

"I don't know," said Edward honestly, "It would be best if he did, else he might grant him the title of Prince of Wales."

Elizabeth and Thomas both gasped.

Not far from the Seymours, stood Lady Mary as she regarded the scene before her with distaste. The boy was the Harlot's son, and as much as she wanted to believe that he was the son of an incestuous union, she could not. He was so much like her father and as thus, he as her brother. She thought that she could come to love him like she came to love Elizabeth. It was not his fault that his mother was who she was.

Nevertheless, Mary thought it was very cruel of her father to display the child to the entire court as if declaring him to be another heir. She had heard rumors for weeks now about how her father may want to declare this boy as Prince. That was wrong, he was a bastard. How could he even think to place him in the line of succession let alone declare him a Prince of England? She desperately wished that her father would make some announcement about the matter to squash such rumors if only for the sake of the good Queen. Does he not realize the position that he has put his wife into? While her son was sickly but clung to life at Hatfield, her father was doting on a bastard. It disgusted Mary, clear and simple.

* * *

_**March 19**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"The treaty has been finalized then?" asked Anne in curiosity.

Francis nodded and took a sip of his wine, "It would seem so, and Prince Philip will arrive next month in exchange of his father."

Anne pursed her lips ever so slightly, "Poor child."

"I must agree, but we could find no other agreement, the son and a hefty sum for the father. The final decision did not come as a surprise," Francis mused.

Anne nodded; it was as she had expected as well, "Will he be staying where the Emperor resides now?"

Francis smiled, "I thought I would leave the decision up to you. He will have his own governess accompany him and that is all. You may make arrangements as you wish." The welfare of another Prince was a rather important matter and Anne was slightly surprised that Francis was willing to entrust her with the task.

"I shall see to it," she agreed, no matter her dislikes of Spain, Prince Philip was just a child. As a child, he can be easily be influenced.

* * *

_**March 20**__**th**__**, 1538, Hampton Court, England**_

While he had prepared large apartments for his son and even ordered Thomas Boleyn a new larger apartment, he often brought his son to his own. Royal protocol has always dictated the relationship between the King and his princes and princesses, making relations at times cold. There were, however, no rules on bastard children though. Perhaps this was the reason that he had always been more close to his son Henry Fitzroy than his other three children. They were more like a family then, much more free to do as they wish.

With his son at court, he immediately summoned his daughter Elizabeth to court as well. The siblings had not met before this and he thought it was well past the time for them to meet.

"Your Majesty," Thomas Boleyn bowed to the King as he led the young girl in with her governess in tow.

Henry nodded, smiling as he watched his daughter curtsy to him gracefully. She was only four and half years old, but her curtsy was perfect, better than even the most seasoned courtier, like her mother. "My Elizabeth," he called to her and watched happily as the little girl walked to him, taking his extended hand. She was still shy with him, not like before when she would always ignore court protocols and run to him yelling Papa. She almost never addressed his as papa anymore, always Majesty. It distraught him, but he understand that he could not take away the time that she had spend in fear, not knowing what was happening around her. She had changed from Princess to bastard and no one had explained why to her.

"I wish to introduce to you, your brother," he told her as he placed the young boy in front of her.

Elizabeth regarded the boy critically, "Yes, Majesty," she responded carefully.

Henry nearly sighed, he missed the carefree girl that his daughter had once been, "He has the same mama as you."

This seemed to cause a spark in her eyes. Henry was quite sure that despite everyone telling Elizabeth that young Prince Edward was her brother, she knew that there was something different about her and him. She knew that they had different mamas. Despite the fact that Jane had brought her to court, even she could feel the bias of the Queen's favor. She knew that her new step mother preferred her sister Mary over her and as such she never took to Queen Jane. "Where is my mama?" she asked her father, tears started to gather in her eyes. All accounts of her mother had not been passed directly to the child as no one knew exactly how to explain it to a girl who had been so young when it happened.

Henry blinked. Was he to tell his daughter that he had ordered her mother's death because she had committed treason? "She had to go somewhere far away," he told his daughter, not realizing her true his words were.

"When will she come see me again?" Elizabeth pressed, "Doesn't she love me anymore?"

Henry nodded, despite Anne's faults, she did love Elizabeth fiercely and he did not want his daughter to believe that her mother didn't love her, "She loves you dearly. She just can't come see you anymore."

"Because mama is in heaven?" the little girl asked.

Henry paused briefly, it would be very upsetting to his daughter if he said that she was in hell, "Yes," he told his daughter, who smiled at the answer and held out a hand for to her little brother.

"What's his name?" she asked.

Henry smiled, "William."

Elizabeth tilted her head as William grabbed on to her hands, pulling himself up and stumbling a bit as he attempted to walk. Elizabeth laughed, "I like William."

Thomas Boleyn stood to the side with a smile. Children always had a way into their parents' hearts especially at the age they were currently at, completely innocent. It was amusing how in a matter of few minutes, the little girl had gotten her father to admit that her mother was in heaven, while most courtiers feared to mention her name.

* * *

_**March 29**__**th**__**, 1538, Paris, France**_

"What is going on?" Anne asked her footman in irritation. She had gone to visit the children with Francis but he had to leave immediately after mass because he had heard reports that the Holy Roman Emperor was sick. Anne had stayed behind to give out coins to the poor that had gathered around the church to catch a glimpse of the Queen. On the way back to the palace, however, there seemed to be a commotion and they had pulled the horses to a stop.

"Someone seemed to have blocked the route, Your Majesty, but they are taking her away," he replied back.

Anne became curious. She was much beloved in France, especially Paris, why would anyone stop her carriage? She opened the carriage doors and stepped out, surprising her guards and maids, alarming them as she began to walk towards the commotion. It was a young woman whose face was tear stained but a look of determination rested on her face as she begged the guards who were attempting to drag her away quietly.

"Release her," Anne ordered as she approached the scene.

Her guards bow immediately and released the girl, but did not step away in fear that the girl would harm their liege. The girl seemed to have noticed her immediately as she got up and stumbled toward Anne and dropped to her knees before the Queen, "Your Majesty, please, I beg you, please save my brother. I have no one left to turn to. I am willing to receive any punishment for blocking your Majesty's carriage procession."

"Your brother?" Anne questioned, "Who is your brother?"

"Jean de Jacques, Majesty," she responded.

Anne nodded, "And why does he need saving? What has he done?"

"He didn't do anything, your majesty," the girl replied indignantly, "We are but simple people and own a small piece of land outside of Paris. Signor Mosby wanted the land but we did not wish to sell. So he bribed the county magistrate and they arrested my brother on false charges. They told me if we do not sell, we will never see him again, but this land is the only thing we have, Please Your Majesty."

Anne nodded, "I will look into the matters, please rise. You may return to the palace with us if you wish until this matter is resolved."

The woman nodded, "thank you, thank you so much Your Majesty."

Anne didn't know if the young woman was telling the truth, but she admired the woman's courage in stopping the carriage of the Queen. She could have been killed in the process. She also admired her for her determination, her pleading from desperation reminded her of the time when she had pleaded from her heart, yet she had been denied. She did not deny this woman.

* * *

_**April 4**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

Her pregnancy had started to approach the final stages and as a result she stayed mostly in the palace and the immediate surrounding grounds. With good weather outside, she took full advantage of the garden that Francis had created for her. It had soothed her in Picardy and now it was her own private space.

True to his words, he had ordered no one was to enter this place if the Queen was present. Anne was very grateful of the fact as it became her breathing place especially now that so many ladies always surrounded her (in her condition) that it almost felt suffocating.

Today, it was rather different as she did not visit the area during the day like she usually did, instead she came at night followed by only two ladies and a few servants who she left behind. It was a warm night, and Anne wanted to see the stars, but to her surprise that her garden was occupied by a young girl crying. From the appearance of her clothe, it seemed like she was maid, but Anne did not think she had seen her before, "Who are you?"

The girl jumped in surprise, and when she caught sight of the woman addressing her, she nearly fainted, "Your Majesty!" she dropped down to a low curtsy.

"You may rise," Anne said evenly, she felt a little irritation at seeing the girl, it was suppose to be her place after all, "Who are you?" she asked the question again.

"Margaret, Your Majesty, I am a servant at the palace," she told the Queen.

"Why were you crying?" asked Anne.

The girl blinked, almost surprised that the Queen of all people would even care, "It is nothing, I do not wish to trouble you."

Anne frowned, "But it did not appear to be nothing. Perhaps I could be of some help," she told the girl. She had always treated her maids and servants kindly despite the fact that she was known to have a temper in England. The only people she treated cruelly were those she believed to be her husband's mistresses.

The girl bite her lip as if debating, but finally spoke, "My father is very ill and needs someone to take care of him. I am his only daughter, but if I leave the palace now, I will lose my job. We have no other source of income. I do not know what to do." Her eyes filled with tears.

Anne nodded and smiled at the girl sympathetically, "Go home and help your father, Margaret. I shall promise you a job when you return," she told the girl kindly, and then, "You may return with me to my chambers, to fetch some money for physicians and cure remedies."

A fresh bout of tears seemed to reach the girl's eyes as she thanked the Queen over and over again.

* * *

_**April 7**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Anna," Anne greeted the young woman warmly, "Lord Brosse has informed me that he has seen to the matter of your brother. You were indeed wronged terribly and your brother has been released. The others will be punished accordingly."

Anna de Jacques curtsied deeply, "Thank You, Your Majesty." She still could not believe that the Queen had been so kind to her. She was such a great and important person but she had not forgotten a little nobody like her.

Anne nodded, "You are free to return home anytime," Anna felt a twist in her stomach. She did not wish to leave. If she left, how could she repay the Queen for her great kindness? "What is it?" the Queen seemed to sense her unease easily.

"Please Majesty, I would like to stay here. I am willing to do any work. My brother cannot support me forever and I do not wish to be a burden to him. I cannot do much, but I wish dearly to be able to repay your Majesty for your kindness," she pleaded.

Anne paused briefly, "You need not repay me for bring justice to light, but if you would like a job at the palace, you may have one. You have done great work here while you waited for Lord Brosse's investigation to conclude." She saw no harm in letting the girl stay.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

* * *

_**April 25**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Mama, what is the Prince of Spain like?" asked Prince Charles, the Duke of Orleans.

Anne did not kneel down this time because of her pregnancy; instead she was seated on a throne, with the Prince standing next to her. "I do not know. This is the first time I will be meeting him as well. Though, remember, you must show him how good of a Prince you are."

Charles nodded enthusiastically. He was always excited to make his new mama proud.

Princess Margaret on the other hand looked much more gloom. She had heard the rumors around court suggesting that her father, the King, was considering making a marriage alliance between her and the young Prince, four years her junior. This prospect did not appeal to her, "Is it true what they say, Majesty? That all the Hapsburg Princes have a terribly ugly chin?"

Anne arched a brow in amusement. She knew well that Margaret already disliked the idea of marrying the boy Prince. Her step daughter and her relationship was far better than that of Mary and hers. Margaret was a young and opinionated woman but without any woman guidance. She respected Anne and thus looked to her for most things. "Be nice Margaret. He is a Prince after all even though he is a Spaniard," she joked.

Margaret pouted slightly but couldn't help but laugh at her step mother's last comment. Indeed, they got along exceptionally well. If it wasn't for the fact they looked so different, the interactions between the Queen and Prince and Princess of France would give no clue that they were stepmother and children.

It didn't take long before it was announced that Prince Philip of Spain had arrived. The boy was dressed impeccably and the Habsburg chin was not very prominent. He was rather pink skinned with a round face, pale blue eyes and a prominent lip. All in all, Anne thought him a handsome young boy.

He was only ten years old and any child his age would be terrified under the circumstances yet the boy was strong, courageous even. He showed no outward sign of fear. When he approached the Queen, he gave a slight bow, "Your Majesty."

Anne smiled, "Your Highness," then she looked to her step children expectantly, Charles immediately bowed to the Prince, "Your Highness," and Margaret followed his example with a curtsy, by rank Philip was above them in precedence because he was the immediate heir of another Kingdom.

Philip seemed surprised that the Prince and Princess of France treated him with such respect, but to his credit he did not let it show on his face. Anne smiled at him, "I hope you will find your stay in France enjoyable despite the…circumstances." The Prince nodded. "I have already made arrangements for Your Highness to stay with the Prince Charles and Princess Margaret. I hope the accommodations made there will at the very least make it a little more comfortable. If Your Highness needs anything else, please feel free to let me know," her voice was kind and warm.

"I will be staying with the Prince and Princess?" asked the Philip, this time he could not hide the wonder in his voice. It was clear that he had been prepared by his mother and advisors for prison instead. In a way, it was like a prison as he was not free to go home, but Anne thought it would be better for the child if he had regular interactions with children his age as there would be in the children's household.

Anne nodded, "Yes, unless you would strongly prefer to stay in a household of your own?"

The Prince shook his head, "Thank You, Your Majesty." Anne smiled. Unbeknownst to everyone present, this action that Anne had chosen would indeed make a deep impression on the boy Prince in the years to come.

* * *

_**May 19**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

Anne's pregnancy left her often exhausted especially in this late stage. Her body had not reacted to her condition well. For her own and the child's safety, the doctors had ordered her to rest in bed for most of her day. While Anne became bed ridden, the King was gracious enough to visit her often and often kept her company so she would not be too bored. Today was no different as the King sat beside her bed and read a letter to her, "The English party has confirmed their visit to be in August."

Anne felt some relief. She was rather glad that the English party had finally decided the date to their visit to be in August. She did not feel that she had the strength to stand up to Henry when she was so heavy with child. It truly was almost a gift from God.

Francis stroked Anne's hair softly, and bent down, pressing a kiss to Anne's enlarged stomach, "Do you think it is a boy or a girl?"

Anne's hands fell to her abdomen, "I don't know. Do you want a princess or a prince?" Francis had already two sons to succeed him, as a result this pregnancy was by far the least stressful of all her pregnancies.

Francis smiled, "I would be happy with any child you bare, Anne," he pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Have you thought of names?"

Anne nodded, "You told me that your mother was one of the strongest women you know. If we have a daughter, I would like to name her Louise."

Francis nodded, "And if it is a Prince?"

"What do you suggest?" she asked.

"I would like to give him my name, Francois," the King suggested.

Anne nodded, "Francois, then."

"Do you really have no preference between a girl and a boy?" She had been so accustomed to her husband demanding a boy that this freedom was still foreign to her.

Francis laughed, "It is hardly in my hands or yours whether our child is a boy or girl. It is God who decides. I shall be very happy as long as the child and its mother are safe and healthy," he paused briefly to think, "Well, to be honest, a Princess would be very helpful in securing alliances currently." He knew well that Anne was not a woman to be cuddled but a strong confidant who understood the implication of children.

"Who did you have in mind?" Anne's responded as Francis expected.

He did not think his wife will like the name he had in mind, "Edward, Prince of England."

True to his expectations, Anne froze slightly, before speaking, "The Ambassador wrote that he is a sickly boy." In all honesty, the idea of her daughter marrying Jane Seymour's son made her nauseas.

Francis laughed, "All the easier to control, but you are of course right, he may never live to adulthood, but it would strengthen the alliance between England and us for the time being. But this is all speculation of course; we are still far from that future."

That didn't really help with Anne's nausea. The idea of her daughter Elizabeth bowing to Jane already disgusted her beyond belief, she was not going to send another daughter to be under Henry and Jane's clutches. If she had had a choice she would have taken her children with her from England, not send more children to England.

* * *

_**May 30**__**th**__**, 1538, Northumberland, England**_

"My Lord?" the servant bowed to his master timidly. It was widely known throughout the house that their master had a temper in the last year. He often drank and had squandered some of his money away. The reason, they all knew. It was because of Anne Boleyn. Their master had loved the woman, but he had been forced to vote her guilty.

"What?" Henry Percy, the 6th Earl of Northumberland asked with irritation. He did not like to be disturbed.

"You have a visitor, Master," the servant replied.

Henry scowled at him, "I have already told you that I do not wish to entertain any visitors."

The servant nodded nervously, "I have told them as much, but they will not leave, they insisted that you meet with them." He placed a wax sealed parchment on the table, "They said that you would want to see them once you have seen the contents."

The earl blinked. He took the parchment from the servant. There was no stamp on the wax seal, no indication of who the sender was. Curious, he broke the seal and opening the parchment. His eyes widened slightly at the drawing inside. It was a necklace, a string of pearls with a well crafted letter B dangling from it. He felt his breathe catch. "Show them in," he told his servant immediately. He didn't know what was going on but he was going to find out.

It didn't take long before the servant entered the room with two people, a man and a woman. From the looks of it, they were husband and wife, peasant perhaps.

The man bowed and the woman did an awkward sort of curtsey, "My Lord," they greeted him.

"Why did you give me this drawing?" asked the Earl impatiently.

"Drawing? My lord?" the man asked in confusion, it was clear that whoever gave them the drawing did not tell them of the contents. They were just the messengers.

Henry blinked several times trying to gather his thoughts, "Then why have you come?"

The man took out another folded parchment with the same blank red seal and handed it to Henry, "We were told to give the first one to your servant so that you will see us, and the second one we must give to you in person."

The Earl fingered the new parchment in his hands; it was thicker than the last one. He cracked the seal and opened it. Inside was neatly written letter, but it was the handwriting that made his heart jump to this throat. It was penned by her. How many times have they exchanged letters in the past? How could he not recognize it?

_Dearest Henry, _

_I hope this letter finds you in good health. I have no doubt that this will come as a rather large shock to you, but I am alive. Do not question where I am, for it is far too dangerous. It is treason to speak of this as his Majesty has condemned me to death, but you know that I was innocent. I do not ask you to fight for my injustice as you have already proved that you will not stand up for me, but I ask you to think of the good times that we had in the past. I ask you to stay in court and protect my children for they have many enemies. I ask for your silence in this matter. I know that you did not want to pass a vote against your conscience, please let this be your path to right the wrong. You need not reply to the letter, only burn it after you have finished. I thank you._

_Love, _

_AB_

By the end of the letter, the Earl found tears in his eyes. He had never regretted a decision more than the one he made in that court. For his cowardice he had betrayed the woman he loved. It didn't matter that she did not love him in the end, he loved her. She was the love of his life. He smiled bitter sweetly. He was glad that she had trusted him enough to write him and entrust him with this task despite everything he had done. He would not betray that trust.

He placed the letter into the open flame of the candle and watched it turn to ashes. He made a promise to himself then. He was going to go back to court. He will bring justice to her children. After all there was a time when he would have done anything for her, and that had not changed. He just wondered where she was now, if she was doing well.

* * *

_**June 2**__**nd**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"How are you feeling today, Your Majesty?" asked the Duke of Étampes quietly.

Anne placed her book, _The Prince_, down quietly, "I am well, Father, but bored."

"It should be soon," he told her. It was rather a foreign thing to him to comfort his daughter near childbirth. His own had died before she had the chance to be a mother. Even to this day, he didn't know how he felt about this Anne. She was polite to him and honored him. Without her, he would be nowhere near the position he had risen to, but she was not his Anne. His Anne would never come back now.

Anne nodded, "Yes, I suppose so," she took a sip of the juice set on her bedside table, "Do you have any news?" Her ladies were in view but far enough to leave the conversation in privacy.

"Yes, Henry Percy has returned to court and his allied himself with Thomas Boleyn," he told her.

Anne nodded again; it was what she had expected. Despite Adrien believing that it was a huge risk to bring Henry Percy into the plan, Anne didn't think it was that big of a risk. Adrien did not know Percy like she did. He loved her, and his betrayal of her meant that he would do anything to make it up to her, especially as what Anne asked him to do would not cost him his life as long as everything remained a secret. Before he had been at great risk, he had been lucky he was not charged with adultery with the other men, thus he dared not say that she was innocent. Things were different now though, he was in no danger as she was technically dead. His guilt from before would also ensure his loyalty. She needed that for her children. While her father would protect her children, his ambition had not disappeared. He protected them because of ambition and power; Anne needed someone to protect them for the love of their mother. They were safer if their protector did it out of love because that way they were more than just a tool. They would not be simply discarded when they lost their value.

Perhaps she had judged her father too harshly. But he had sat by and watched George die. Perhaps his conscience had eventually gotten better of him by the time of her execution, but that could not bring George back, nothing could. She had always felt like a tool used by her father and her uncle and even occasionally George, she was not going to let her children become tools as well.

"Have you spoken to uncle?" she asked, changing topics.

Adrien nodded, "He will learn to remain quiet if he wishes to remain at court. He had pledged his loyalty to Your Majesty.

Anne smiled, "then I shall be happy to welcome him to Court." Antonine Sanguin de Meudon was Anne de Pisseleu's uncle and as such knew who the real Anne was. Adrien trusted the man even though he trusted rarely and that was good enough for Anne. She trusted Adrien to not risk their lives.

* * *

_**June 12**__**th**__**, 1538, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"I wish for patents of nobility to be drawn up for my son," the King announced to Cromwell.

Master Cromwell couldn't say he was surprised given the circumstance lately, "What will your Majesty wish to grant?"

The King pondered briefly. He did not want to grant the same titles as he had given Henry Fitzroy because the child had died so young. It would be rather bad luck. Instead he had thought hard for another title. Finally he had decided to create new ones for the boy, "Duke of Pembroke and Somerset."

Cromwell's eyes widened for a fraction of a second. He had not expected the King to mention Pembroke for a long time. This was essentially the same as acknowledging the mother of the child. He could not refuse his King though, "Yes, your majesty." Perhaps this was a good thing. Duke of Pembroke and Somerset was far better than Prince of Wales. Yet his worry remained, as long as the King delayed granting the title of Prince of Wales to Prince Edward officially, there was always a danger to the young Prince.

* * *

_**June 20**__**th**__**, 1538, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"Your Majesty," Charles Brandon bowed to the King of England and his long time friend. He had debated in his mind over and over about it since the official visit to France had been confirmed on whether he should tell the King about France's new Queen. In the end he had finally decided to do so, simply because he did not want the King to be caught off guard. The result of such would only mean the King's immense anger.

"What is it?" the King asked, not looking up from playing with his one and a half year old son, William, Duke of Pembroke and Somerset. Ever since the small child had arrived at court, the King had kept him there, despite the fact that legitimate royal children were by protocol to be sent away to have their own household. William was no normal child, he was essentially a bastard and as such the King did as he wished. This was a fact that caused Edward Seymour great nuisance as the Duke of Suffolk had observed. The closer the King is to his bastard son, the more dangerous a position Prince Edward holds. The problem is only worsened by while William stayed, the Lady Elizabeth also stayed, she was charmer and as such also dangerous.

"There is a matter that I must inform Your Majesty of, a matter of some importance," he told the King, who nodded in acknowledgement for him to continue. Brandon took a deep breath, "I wish to inform Your Majesty so that you will not be surprised on our visit to France. The Queen of France has a very strong resemblance to Anne Boleyn." There was no need to stall, it was far better to be blunt and to the point, "The resemblance was so strong that at first I thought the she was alive, but that could not be. I even tested her, but she did not know…" He trailed off at the expression of coldness on the King's face.

The King did not say anything for a few moments, but he did stop playing with the young Duke. The silence felt like an eternity to Brandon, for these days it became harder and harder to predict the King's moods, but finally he spoke, "I see, is that all?" it sounded rather calm to Brandon.

The Duke of Suffolk nodded mutely, a silent King was much more dangerous than a vocal one for a vocal one you can at least see what his emotions are.

"Well then, leave my sight," the order was cold.

Brandon stared at his friend is semi-shock, "Your Majesty?"

"I said do not appear in my sight unless you are directed to. You have displeased me greatly," the King continued in his rather emotionless voice.

Brandon bowed deeply, "Please, forgive me." He had displeased the King before, but the King had never banished him for something so trivial before.

"I grow tired of forgiving you," Henry told the Duke, "You returned from France more than six months ago, but you only inform me now? Or perhaps you only decided to inform me because you realized that you could no longer hide the information. It makes me wonder, Charles, what else have you been hiding from me? What other information have you thought too trivial or inconvenient to inform your King? I am your King and I will decide what is trivial and what is not. As my Envoy to France it was your job to be my ears and eyes, but you have failed me."

Brandon gulped, he had not meant it that way, the King was making it seems as if he had conspired against him. "Please, Your Majesty, I only did not wish to upset you."

"Leave," the King's voice was final and Brandon was forced to obey his King. He understood why the King was angry; he often was whenever she was mentioned. But like always, when he calmed down, he would summon him back to court.

* * *

_**June 21**__**st**__** 1538, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"_Henry," her voice was soft, almost like a whisper from behind him._

_He turned immediately. She hadn't changed at all. Her beautiful raven locks fell down her back in soft curls. Her eyes a deep blue sparkled in the dimly lit room. She was dressed in a dark blue gown; he had always thought she looked best in that color as it made her skin seem to glow, "Anne, what are you doing here?"_

"_To see Elizabeth and William," she responded as he saw a glimpse of two children playing. She followed his glance, "I am so proud of them," they watched the children play silently for a few moments, "You must be very proud of them too." She smiled at the scene._

_Henry nodded, "I am. I am very proud of them. But from time to time, they remind me of you, and what you did to me." The anger of betrayal flared momentarily. This was the reason he could not bring himself to give William and Elizabeth more._

_Anne's smile melted off of her face, "I did nothing to you. I was innocent. All the accusations against me were false," her eyes held sorrow, "I thought you knew…" He turned from her as tears began to form._

_He heard her footsteps walking away. "Anne please don't…" He snapped his head back to where she had been, but she was gone, everyone was gone. There was no children, no Anne, just a baron room that erupted into flames. _

King Henry VIII sat up in bed with a scream, his sheet were soaked in sweat.

"Your Majesty?" Thomas Culpepper ran up to him with his knife drawn, "What is it? Were you in danger?"

Henry shook his head, letting his breath even out, "No, Thomas, I am fine." It was just a dream, a figment of his imagination. She was dead, but the heat from the flames had felt so real.

* * *

_**June 21st, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"What is it?" asked Anne tiredly. The labor had not been as long and as painful as it had been with Elizabeth and William. In comparison it was much faster, only about four hours. The other difference was the emotion behind her question. She had asked the same question in the last two times she gave birth, but before she had asked fearfully. Her fate had depended on the sex of her child, but now, she was only curious.

"A Prince, Your Majesty, a healthy Prince," one of her ladies in waiting told her cheerfully.

Anne let out a breathe, it was relief. It wasn't relief that the child was a boy, but that he was healthy, "Has His Majesty been informed?" It was a strange tradition in France in which Royal deliveries were watched by the courtiers who sat in the birthing chamber, but Anne had vehemently refused that, simply because she did not want men like Montmorency in her chambers in her moments of vulnerability. Francis had indulged her, and sat with others in a close chamber.

"Yes, Lady Chabot has gone to inform His Majesty," the same Lady informed her.

Anne nodded as the maids quickly changed her clothes and sheets before handing the babe to her and they waited for the King. She didn't have to wait long before Francis strode quickly into the room. He immediately took a seat beside Anne on her bed with a large smile.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

Anne smiled, "Alright, just tired," it was a strange feeling to be asked how she was after the birth. Henry had been so disappointed in the fact that Elizabeth had been a girl, and then she miscarried twice, making him hate her. He comforted her for two of them, but she could always feel his disappointment, but with Francis it felt different. He was genuinely concerned for her well being and it felt nice to be cared for.

Francis kissed her on the forehead, "Can I hold him?" he asked, Anne nodded handing the babe to him. With many children with Claude, he knew well how to hold the child, "He is beautiful," he told her, "Prince Francois, the Duke of Angouleme," that was the name they had decided on.

Anne nodded with a yarn, "Francois," she liked the name well enough and it seemed to suit the child.

"You should sleep," he told her, holding the child in one arm, he used the other to help Anne lay down from her propped up position, then he carefully helped the maids draw the covers up around her snuggly before taking a seat beside her bed again. He rocked the child softly with one arm and the other hand stroked Anne's hair in a comforting and protective manner. It was like this that Anne fell asleep, feeling safe, and surrounded by her new child and husband.

* * *

_**July 10**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

A beautiful red rose appeared in front of her book causing her to look up. "Your Majesty," she greeted the King, surprised that she had not heard him come in.

"I picked the flower myself in the gardens. I know that the physicians want you to rest inside despite the good weather so I thought I would bring a little of the outside to you," he told her with a big smile.

Anne smiled back, taking the rose in her hand, "Thank You," Francis was very romantic when he wanted to be. She rather imagined that if it wasn't for her experience with Henry she would have fallen hard for the French King who constantly showered her with gifts and every once in awhile will do small things like this, such as bringing her handpicked flowers and writing love poems to her. Yet she could not wipe away the memories of England. It always remained in her mind like a warning.

The King took a seat on the bed next to Anne, "Francois is doing very well. I went to see him in his nursery today." Anne's eyes lit up. It was moments like this that Francis thought he was finally getting a glimpse of the lively and real Anne Boleyn, the woman before the betrayal and hurt, the woman who was a goddess in his eyes.

* * *

_**July 20**__**th**__**, 1538, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"I see the King has allowed for his return," Thomas Howard, the Duke of Norfolk mused to his brother-in-law as they observed the Duke of Suffolk busy with the task of readying everything for the journey to France. The reason behind the Duke of Suffolk's banishment had been unclear but rumors said that it was because of Anne Boleyn.

"Yes, he is granted permission to accompany the King to France as will you and I," Thomas Boleyn, the Earl of Wiltshire responded.

The Duke of Norfolk nodded, "The Seymours will accompany the Queen there as well, but they could still have plans to harm the Duke of Pembroke and Somerset with everyone away."

Boleyn smiled, "Henry Percy has decided to stay and protect the children."

Thomas Howard turned to the Earl with slight skepticism, but his brother-in-law made no move to explain.

* * *

_**August 19**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

Jane watched her surroundings in fascination. She had never stepped foot outside of England before. France was stunning and the Palace before her was one of the most beautiful places she had ever seen. It was true that she admired an Imperial alliance for the sake of Princess Mary, and she disliked the more revealing cloths that were of the French taste introduced by Anne Boleyn, but she could not deny the beauty that was before her.

Both sides of the royal family were wearing their best cloth and jewelry. Jane wore a golden dress and a large golden tiara. On her neck sat a large yellow topaz necklace surrounded by gold, a gift from the King after the birth of Edward. Her hair was pulled into a bun at the base of her neck, secured by a golden net.

King Henry VIII mirrored his wife's cloth, wearing a cream color with gold embroidery. He stood by Jane's side, while the other English Courtiers stood behind them.

Jane noticed that King Francis was a very handsome man with head full of dark hair. His cloths were elegant, made of a deep blue almost black with lighter blue accents. She couldn't help but notice that his Queen was not standing beside him, a fact that King Henry seemed to have noticed as well.

Francis understood his counterparts searching glance. His marriage had become quite infamous in European society as many called it a marriage to the people. Not to mention Charles Brandon would have surely informed his Queen about Anne's strong "resemblance" to herself. He smiled friendly to the English King, "We welcome you to France, Brother."

King Henry smiled back, "It is an honor, Brother. If I may have the great pleasure in introducing my wife, Queen Jane," he motioned to Jane.

"Your Majesty," Queen Jane curtsied to the French King.

Francis smiled, so this was the woman that had replaced Anne. She seemed very plain and a bit mousy. What exactly did the English King see in her? "A pleasure, Madame," he told her politely, taking her hand into his and kissing it briefly. He was of course going to acknowledge Jane Seymour as Queen, after all it would not do if people still regarded Anne as the English Queen; she was his.

Francis turned back to the English King, "I must apologize to you, my brother, my wife, the Queen Anne was not well this morning and could not greet you. She has still not recovered completely from giving France another Prince. Perhaps her health will permit her to greet you properly at tonight's banquet."

King Henry nodded. What else could he say? After Charles Brandon had told him of the likeness between Francis's Queen and Anne, he had wanted to see her. Could two people on earth really look so much alike? Yet he could hardly demand to see the other King's wife, "Of course, I do wish Her Majesty, a speedy recovery."

Francis placed a hand on Henry's arm with an arm, "Please allow me to give you a tour of my home," Palais du Fontainebleau was his jewel of France and Francis had no doubt it would make the English King sorry about his own palaces.

_**Later**_

King Henry VIII and Queen Jane were the first ruling couple to arrive at the banquet. They had been well received by the Dauphin and the Dauphine who played admirably as the young hosts. They introduced Henry and Jane to the Prince Charles and Princess Margaret and then a few other courtiers. The reason behind such a decision was simple; King Francis liked to make an entrance, especially when other monarchs visited France.

The royal couple from England had rested after a brief tour that essentially introduced them to their rooms. They redressed for the banquet, this time wearing a similar color scheme but a more elaborate design. Their morning clothes were one of the finest because it was the first impression clothes, but it was still traveling clothes. Now for the banquet and the dance it was truly the time for each to show off their riches. To embrace this fact, Rubies were weaved into Jane's hair, and she adorned large ruby necklaces and earrings.

For sitting arrangements at the banquet, four thrones had been set up at the front of the room, the two to the left was already occupied by the King and Queen of England by the time the herald announced the arrival of the King and Queen of France.

King Francis walked in with his arm linked with his wife, the Queen Anne. He too had changed into a different set of cloths, the blue hue lighter with a few purple accents, but it had been relatively simple, after all he didn't want to over shadow his wife's appearance.

Queen Anne was indeed a stunning sight. She wore a deep blue gown that fitted her body rather tightly. Her long hair was left down, half secured by an elaborate half braid. Sapphires and diamonds were weaved in her hair with the thinnest gold thread. She had chosen a most finely made head piece that was of a moderate size tiara but richly decorated with diamonds and sapphires. Her dress was low cut, showing off her milky skin, allowing for a large gold and Sapphire necklace to rest gently on her slender neck. Her earring were not as large but elegant and more sapphires and diamonds.

Their entrance caused the hall to fall silent as many of the French courtiers admired their Queen's new gown and jewels, but for the English party it was like watching the sky turn dark in warning for an approaching storm. They repeatedly stole glances at their King, watching his reaction. The French Queen's appearance gave them a quite a scare, but their King's reaction was much more terrifying.

King Henry for his part said nothing as the French Royal couple approached the throne, but his eyes burned into the Queen Anne. He barely blinked; instead he focused all his attention on the woman. Charles had said it was a very strong likeness but the woman before him didn't have a resemblance to Anne Boleyn, she looked exactly the same. His thoughts were so focused that he never even heard his wife beside him gasp in shock as well.

Francis smiled as his hold on Anne's arm tightened. For some reason, despite Anne's current feelings of anxiety she could not help but have the distinct feeling that Francis was taunting Henry, "I would like to introduce my wife, the Queen Anne, brother."

The King of England's stare only became more heated if at all possible.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

It was not until editing did I realize how ridiculously long this chapter was. Hope no one fell asleep reading it, lol.**  
**

So my Henry seems to be less of an ass than real Henry VIII at least to his daughter and son now. In reality he would never had said that Anne was in heaven, but hey let's just pretend he was having a moment of nostalgia and decided to be kind.

Admiral Chabot met Anne Boleyn in history and the Tudors, but not in this story.

There were some original characters in this story. I'm usually not a fan of those, but history would hardly record servant names for me….

Next chapter marks the start of the real story!

**Please Review**! They are food for my muse. The dream sequence was inspired by a reviewer. They let me know if I am getting my point across well. Let me know your thoughts on the chapter!

Until next time,

Cruelangel


	9. Chapter 8: Memories

**Title: Nemesis**

**Author: **Cruelangel101

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...Not the characters, not the show, and certainly not the production company…can anyone own history?**

**Detailed Summary:** Starting from the scene where Anne watched her brother's execution, Anne finds herself pregnant with the King's child. They thought she was saved, but the King still enraged and determined to marry Jane Seymour, chose to believe the child was the offspring of one of the executed man. Anne's execution was determined to proceed after the birth of her child. A plot from an unexpected family member, rescued her from the tower and in the most bizarre chain of events she ended up as the Queen of France. All the while her rival Jane Seymour rises to the position of Queen of England. Her heart cold from betrayal and filled with hopes for revenge, what would the future hold? Can new warmth melt her iced heart or will past spark ignite once more? This time when two men battle for her heart, the consequence is war. (Queen of France and son after the tower ideas are hardly new to fanfic, but I would like take a new spin on it.)

**Pairings:** Anne/Francis I and Anne/Henry VIII (both in some ways)

**AN:** I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed and/or favorite and/or alerted this story. The support has been very touching and keeps the story going! The reviews for the last chapter were what pushed me to finish it as this was an extremely difficult chapter to write.

I rewrote this chapter several times…hope it's there finally. Its long, but I liked the ending too much to cut it into two chapters.

**Nemesis…the Greek goddess of revenge…**

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Memories**

_Memories are of the past, but they often dictate our present actions. _

_**August 19**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"_I would like to introduce my wife, the Queen Anne, brother." _

Anne's heart pounded so hard and fast that she could almost hear little else save for the rhythmic beat. She felt slightly nauseas, as if her heart would jump out of her throat. She had been preparing for this moment for nearly a year. She had thought she would be confident and ready to face her past, but when that past was suddenly placed before her eyes, she could barely breathe. Seeing him again, brought back all the memories of the past and all of the hurt, and all the emotional turmoil.

_His hand was buried in her blonde hair, pulling that woman closer to him. Their lips locked, so absorbed in the sin that they were committing that they had not noticed her until she had screamed…Her heart broke at the sight..._

_There was so much blood that stained her white nightgown crimson. There was so much red. It was a tearing pain, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the pain in her heart and the fear in her mind. This had been her last chance, and now she had lost it. The shock from the adulterous kiss had been too much for her to bear. _

_He came to see her that night after her ladies had changed her into a new gown. She had been crying for hours, from the pain both emotional and physical. He had blamed her then. His first words to her were, "You have lost my boy." _

_She didn't respond, only soaking her bed sheets with more tears. The pain was so great. She wanted him to hold her, to comfort her, to tell her everything would be alright. The baby wasn't just his, he was her child as well, her boy. The worst thing for a mother to hear is the death of her child. She loved the babe, and she would have gladly given her life if it meant he would arrive to the world safely. But Henry only felt his pain, only acknowledged his own current feelings. He had tears in his eyes, but it wasn't for her, "I cannot speak of it, the loss is too great," it was always all about him. He turned angry, "But I can see now, god will not grant me any male children," he looked at her coldly, "when you are up, I will speak with you." He turned to leave._

_But she couldn't just let go, "It was not all my fault." He paused his steps but made no move to turn around and look at her, "You have no one to blame but yourself for this, I was distressed to see you with that wench, Jane Seymour" he only stomped his foot in anger, she had to make him understand "Because of the love I bear you is so great," she screamed. Her voice turned soft, choking back a sob, "It broke my heart to see you love others." Her heart pleaded for him to turn back, to turn back to the time when they were so much in love. _

_Her words seemed to have stirred up some emotion in him but within seconds he had taken a deep breath and told her coldly," I said I will speak with you...when you are well." He left her in the cold room by herself, never once looking back at her. He would never understand what she had felt that day, the pain of loss and defeat…_

_She walked hurriedly, not giving a care to the fact that her dress was drenched in mud. Elizabeth was quiet in her arms, she was scared, she could feel her mother's fear. "Henry please," he turned from her the moment he saw her, walking away from her, refusing to give her a chance, "Henry please," she begged as she chased after him, Elizabeth heavy in her arms. "For the love you bare our child, for the love of Elizabeth, have mercy…"_

_He refused to listen, "You lied to me," he screamed at her."_

"_No," she defended._

_He turned to her angrily, pointing, "You have always lied to me. You were not a virgin when you married me. You were not what you seemed. Your father and your brother arranged everything." He tried to walk away again. _

_"NO, I loved you," she ran after him again, putting herself in front of him, hoping he will see the truth in her eyes, "I loved you. And I love you still. Please, after everything we have been to each other, after everything we were, please," he pushed her away, she refused to give up, "One more chance, one more."_

_He pushed past her to leave, "Henry," she called out for him, "Your Majesty, your majesty, I beseech you." He never looked back again. Her heart had been too broken and hurt for this to hurt anymore, her only motivation then was her fear and love for Elizabeth. _

That was the last time she truly saw him. He had her arrested soon after with some triumphed up charge of adultery. He had not even bothered to make the charges reasonable; instead they were full of holes. He poured salt on her wounds when he declared their marriage invalid, and Elizabeth a bastard. He had refused her son initially. He was no longer the man that she had loved more than anything; she was no longer that woman who loved despite the consequences. He had taken her faith in love, broke her heart in a thousand pieces. He was no longer her husband, he was her enemy. He made her seek to be Nemesis, and she promised herself that she would have her vengeance.

Yet despite it all, her first emotion at seeing him again was a sickening pull at the pit of her stomach. It was a pull of anger to be sure, making her see sea of red. It was anger at what he had put her through. Anger at all of the betrayals he had committed against her. But it was also a pull of sorrow and regret. It was regret that he did not treasure the beautiful life they had had together. It was sorrow that they would never be the same to each other again. Some actions one can never take back. Even if he was willing to beg for forgiveness, he could never make George come back to life again. But he wasn't asking for forgiveness, Kings don't apologize, it was not in his nature. Anne's hands clinched into fists for the briefest of moments as she evened out her breathing before a completely neutral mask was secured over her face.

The heated stare from the King of England made Anne slightly uncomfortable, she continued to forced herself to appear at ease as she curtsied to the English King. She knew she had always had an enticing curtsy in which the motion would be accompanied by a smile as her eyes would look up and hook the other's soul, but she was careful not to do it this time. Henry and she had more nearly nine years together; he would recognize her signature move immediately. She wanted to delay the explosion that would come from him as long as possible.

From the years she had known Henry, she knew what he was like when things do not go his way. He was like a spoiled little boy who would only full fill his immediate desires with no regards to the long term consequences. He had been King since the age of eighteen. For twenty-nine years, he had ruled as King and as King he had everyone in England fluttering to his whelm. He had always gotten his way. When he wished to marry her, he had set aside Katherine of Aragon despite the fact that it could destroy relations with the Holy Roman Emperor. Then to secure Elizabeth's rights, he had executed his good friend Thomas Moore. When he wanted to marry Jane, he wanted her head and easily declared Elizabeth a bastard. All of these actions, he did without a thought of consequences. He was a man ruled by his emotions and his emotions were volatile thus making him a dangerous man to contend with because one simply cannot predict his actions.

Opposite Anne, King Henry could barely believe his eyes, but he knew his eyes were not lying to him. Seeing her face again, made him remember.

_He had his eyes on the top box. He knew his role well. As he ran up the fake castle, he had meant to grab his sister, Margaret's hand, but instead he felt a pull to grab hers instead. The moment he had looked into her deep blue eyes, he had been hooked, completely enchanted by her, "Perseverance, you are my prisoner now". She smiled at him; her eyes sparkled as she jerked her hand out of his and ran off. He climbed into the top box wanting to chase after her, but it was too late. _

_As each knight and lady lined up for the dance and the masks were discarded, he could not keep his eyes off of her. She was stunning. She was new to court and he had to know who she was, "Who are you?" he had asked when he got the chance to be next to her at the dance._

"_Anne, Anne Boleyn." _

It had been a game of cat and mouse after that. She had ignited a fire in him, but that fire eventually burned them both.

"Brother?" Francis asked with faked concern in English. He knew why the English King was stunned silent, and while it was amusing to watch on some level, he did wish to draw the exchange to a close. He had no doubt that by the next day, the entire court would be whispering fiercely about Anne, but that had been unavoidable. He could hardly hide his Queen forever. The English King may be angry but there will be nothing he could do. Anne was the Queen of France, and despite court politics, she was beloved by her people. If Henry wished to harm her, then he would have to answer to France, where he hardly had an army to protect him. Granted that was just a thought, as Francis would never harm a foreign monarch on an official state visit, but he could always turn him out of France.

The French King's question seemed to jolt the English's King out of his stupor. He nodded jerkily to the French Queen Anne, unable to trust his voice. He observed the woman carefully. She did not appear to be overly offended by his lack of politeness in his greeting and turned her attention to Jane instead. He didn't see any flash of recognition or even signs of irritation as Anne Boleyn would sure have felt toward Jane. In fact she carried herself with a sense of ease and confidence that made Jane's shaky voice in greeting seem as if she was the one caught red hand with a crime.

After the initial greeting, the royal couples moved back to their respective thrones at the head table with Francis and Henry sitting next to each other and Jane to Henry's left and Anne to Francis's right.

As they all took their seats, King Henry let his thoughts consume him. To be fair, Henry did not know if he was glad or irritated with the seating arrangement. He didn't think he could react well if he was to sit next to a woman so like her, but can't be her. In his mind, he knew it couldn't be her. It just couldn't. She had been burned to death by her enemies. She would never have been able to escape the tower. Who would dare go against his wishes and rescue her while risking their own necks? She was a whore. Yes, that was right, he reminded himself. Anne Boleyn had been a whore who seduced him using witchcraft. She had lied to him, their so called love had been nothing but ambitious plans set up by her father and brother. She had paid for her crimes justly. So why did he feel such unease with a woman that looked so much like her? Why was he feeling a sense of guilt? He had been the one that had wasted precious time on her. He had been the one wronged by her, wasn't he? So why did her face twist his stomach into uncomfortable knots? Was it even possible for two people in the world to look so much alike or was his eyes playing tricks on him? King Francis had met Anne in Calais; he would never take Anne Boleyn as his Queen. It was all so confusing.

She was not her, he told himself in his mind again as he took a sip of the wine placed before him. She could not be her. It was impossible.

To Henry's left Jane Seymour sat in her throne with great unease. She could not help but sneak glances back at the woman seated farthest from her at the head table. Never in her wildest dream did she ever imagine that she would see that face and those eyes again. It was disconcerting to see the face of the woman she had replaced. Was she the same woman? That was the question in Jane's mind. She did not fly into a rage at her unlike before. Jane remembered what it was like to serve the harlot, to feel the fear every day. Anne Boleyn was unpredictable, when she had lost her temper she was vicious. Jane's hand unconsciously moved to her neck, her fingers graced her neck softly. She could almost feel the pain from the time when Anne Boleyn ripped off the locket that the King had given her.

To be honest, Jane did not know what to think. She knew it was near impossible for Anne Boleyn to escape from the tower, let alone become the Queen of France, but she could not shake that sickening feeling from her mind. Could two people look so much alike? Seeing the expression on her husband's face did little to sooth her emotions. Everyone at court already knew that he missed her, but now seeing a face so like hers, Jane could not help but feel insecure. Yet she had nothing to fear though, this woman was the wife of the King of France. Her husband could hardly have an affair with the Queen of France.

The supper portion of the banquet passed without action between the monarchs as they had seated themselves in a row making conversation only truly possible between the two Kings. Despite the closeness though, Francis and Henry did little conversing, both having the same woman in their minds. After the meal, the dancing began. Due to her recovering condition, Anne did not dance, but watched instead.

Henry and Jane shared the first dance as Francis danced with his daughter Margaret. Anne watched from her throne, a feeling of anger swelling greater as Jane's hand briefly touched Henry's when they came together. She hated Jane Seymour. If it wasn't for Jane, the child Anne carried would still be alive. The worst was that she always had such a self-righteous air, as if she had saved Henry by taking him away. She portrayed herself as an Angel, but what angel would kiss a man whose wife was heavy with child. It was true that Anne took Henry away from Katherine, but she would freely admit that it was because she wanted to be Queen; she wanted to be the only woman in Henry's life. She loved him, and their love was selfish. She had never regretted her actions even though people hated her for it. It had been who she was and she had accepted it. Yet seeing Jane, who was loved by the English, infuriated her. Jane Seymour's actions had been no different from her own. If Anne was called a harlot, then Jane Seymour was a whore.

She could console herself with one fact though. Anne did not fail to notice that Henry's attentions were not entirely on Jane as they danced. Every time they came to face the throne, his eyes would wander to her. She had expected rage in them, but instead she found confusion and an intensity that reminded her of the days he had courted her. Yet she was not foolish enough to believe that Henry suddenly wanted Anne Boleyn. They had loved each other fiercely but there was a fine line between love and hate. The amount of intensity and passion that they had turned sour and he had hated her as much as he had loved her. He had convinced himself of her betrayal and that feeling was not likely to disappear.

Jane's hand touched Henry's again and she smiled at him. Anne felt her fists clench beneath the table. For the briefest of moments their eyes met. Jane seemed to be caught off guard and stumbled in her dancing, Anne almost laughed. Despite Jane having won the battle between them in regards to the position of Queen of England, she still could not muster the courage to stand up to Anne's gaze. Nevertheless, Anne told herself to calm down, for if she continued to treat Jane Seymour like Anne Boleyn would treat her, it would not be long before everyone else noticed. Henry's explosion was bound to come, there was no escaping it, but for the moment, she rather liked the quiet and peace that his denial brought. Yes, Jane had won the battle, but the winner of the war was yet to be determined. She just had to be patient for now.

As the dance concluded, Frances returned to his seat, taking Anne's left hand and pressed a kiss on the back of it, "It must be very dull to not be able to enjoy the festivities to its fullest."

Anne smiled back at him, "I feel rather tired. Would it be alright with your majesty if I returned to my chambers?" she had no desire to watch anymore of Henry and Jane.

Francis nodded. Anne's recovery from child birth had been slower than anticipated and the doctors had ordered much bed rest, but he knew that the real reason behind Anne's departure was not because of her state of health, it was because of _him._ That thought brought a nasty feeling in his gut, but he granted her request. If Anne wanted to avoid the man and bring their interactions down to minimal he was glad to support her. After all, the less she was with him, the less she would be inclined to remember the passion that they had once shared.

Anne stood gracefully and curtsied before leaving the chamber, her ladies following her out. She barely heard Francis making the excuse for her at the banquet.

Henry watched her retreating back silently, emotions swelling in his mind. He could not accept the fact that she looked identical to her. Was she her? Was it even possible? No, it just couldn't be.

Thomas Boleyn had not thought he would be so emotional at seeing her again, but she and Mary were his only children now. He thought she looked stunning tonight, far out shining Jane Seymour. However, in the years that he had served as a courtier, he had learned to read the King well, and his expression did not bode well for them. There was going to be repercussions, perhaps not today, and not tomorrow, but when the King got over his shock and denials, heads will roll. But he arranged his face into one of surprise and then of sorrow like a father grieving after being reminded of a dead daughter. He knew the English courtiers would watch him as much as they would watch the King, and it would not do if he gave everything away.

* * *

_**August 20**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

Jane watched her brothers pace in front of her. She knew well why they were here; it was the same reason why the English party has been on tip toes since the banquet. It was the same reason why she could not sleep the previous night, the same reason why the King and woken several times with gasps during the night.

"Do you think it is her?" asked Thomas Seymour. It was the question on everyone's mind but no one had dared to say anything, in case it got into the earshot of the King, but they were alone currently as the King went hunting with King Francis. They were not to return for several days.

Edward paced more, before scowling, "I don't know. My eyes tell me yes, but my mind says it is too far-fetched. Even the witch cannot have so much power as to become the Queen of France."

"They found her body in the tower," Thomas reminded his brother.

Edward scoffed, "That means nothing. The body they found had been burned too badly for recognition to be still possible," he paused at his own statement, "But isn't that an interesting coincidence. There could be doubts about the identity of the body and here we are seeing someone who looks exactly like her."

"Yes, coincidence that may be, but surely the King of France would never marry Anne Boleyn. He knew what she looked like. She had been in his court before," Thomas argued.

Edward nodded, "I suppose you are right, the King of France would not take the cast off of another King. It would be insulting for anyone to find out. Yet, I cannot push away that uneasy feeling. If she is her, what would be her plans? Does she have any intention of seeing her son on the throne?"

"A bastard would never sit on the throne," Thomas replied with a smirk.

"The state of being a bastard all relies on the whelm of the King. If it is to his pleasure he could make him legitimate," Edward told his brother harshly.

Thomas did not wipe the smirk off of his face, "What difference does it make? The English people would never accept the harlot's children as heirs of the throne. Besides, the harlot is dead. The French Queen cannot be her."

"But if she is? I would rather not be caught off guard," Edward mused.

"You are being paranoid again," Thomas spoke bemusedly.

Edward scowled and made a biting remark. Jane sighed. While her brothers resumed arguing over if there was a possibility for Queen Anne of France to be Anne Boleyn, Jane thought back to the banquet in the previous day. Initially, the French Queen had seemed to barely acknowledge her. She had been indifferent, but during her dance with Henry, Jane thought she had seen a glare from the French Queen. That gaze she had held on Jane, had felt so similar to that of Anne Boleyn. It was the same intense glare that Anne had given Jane when they had first met. It was the same gaze that Anne had before she had ripped the locket off of Jane's neck. It was a gaze that made Jane feel rather naked, it made her feel as if she was guilty of something when she had done nothing wrong. Despite the fact that she had been the only one to see that very brief look, she had not imagined it.

"She is Anne Boleyn," Jane's soft voice made her brothers stop their argument in mid sentence. They looked back at her incredulously. She never made many comments when they talked about politics and they never attempted to include her in their planning and speculations. As far as they were concerned, all she needed to do was play the role of an obedient wife well and their family would prosper under Prince Edward. Her opinions never mattered and she never spoke of them.

To them, it was pointless to ask Jane of her thoughts because she simply could not understand the complexity of court politics. She was very uneducated, but it was not her fault. Their father had provided both Edward and Thomas with a good education thus the two, despite their differences often planned and plotted together. But John Seymour had never bothered to educate Jane in the letters. He had thought it proper for a woman to be only concerned with needlework and other wifely duties. Jane had been brought up with such values that she had never been anything but quiet and obedient. Thus it was odd, that despite her voice being soft as usual, the conviction in her voice on the French Queen's identity was strange.

"Are you sure?" asked Thomas with much doubt.

Jane nodded. She could never forget that pair of eyes. "She is Anne Boleyn. She is alive." She bit her lips nervously. She was Henry's wife now, the mother of the future King of England. She was the Queen of England, yet despite it all, knowing for a fact that the woman she had replaced was alive, made Jane feel great unease.

"But how can you know for sure?" asked Thomas, still not willing to believe the fact.

"Her eyes. The glare she gave me when I was dancing with the King. It was exactly the same as before. I would never forget it," Jane told him in equal conviction as before. She was well aware that her brothers only saw her as a doll. They were only used to explaining information to her, never actually gaining knowledge from her.

"You are absolutely sure, sister?" asked Edward Seymour with frown.

Jane nodded. Edward resumed his pacing, "If Jane is right, then we may have a large problem on our hands."

Thomas scoffed, "I see no difference. Even if the harlot was the French Queen, there is nothing she could do. She could hardly own up to being Anne Boleyn and she is in France. What could she possibly do in English politics?"

Edward rolled his eyes at his brother's foolishness, "Think farther for once in your life Thomas. The harlot may be at the French court, but she has allies still. Her father and uncle for example. She has an acknowledged son with the King. Do you honestly believe that she would rest contently with the position of a duke for him? This time her children will have foreign support. The weight of Jane and Prince Edward's support from the Spanish court has already diminished in the eyes of the King after the Emperor has been captured by the French. For god sakes, the Emperor's son, Philip the Prince Asturias is still a captive of the French."

"But surely the French King would not champion her children? He surely does not know who she truly is?" asked Thomas.

Edward shook his head, "I don't know. From what I have heard, King Francis may be a lot of things, but he is not stupid. If it suited his purpose, he will champion whoever that is most beneficial to his throne," he paused briefly, "Not to mention the look in his eyes for the harlot."

"He is in love with her," Jane concluded for him. It was a look of complete adoration and it was clear to everyone who was watching. It was a look that she rather wished her own husband would give to her.

"So what do we do now? We should have taken advantage of the fact that the King is away from England to get rid of that child. If her son is dead, she could hardly plot to put her bastard daughter on the throne," Thomas snarled.

Jane's brows furrowed, "No, you will not harm the child. The faults of the mother should not be reflected on the child. He is innocent." She had spent nights worrying as the King showered more and more attention of the Harlot's son, but she refused to have his death on her conscience. He was but a baby. Jane was more than willing to trust that God will guide her son, the rightful prince to his throne.

Edward sighed, "It matters not. The King is away, but don't forget that he had asked the Duke of Norfolk to stay behind at the last minute. The Duke is a relative and he would protect the boy simply because he is of interest to him. Besides, we can never be sure that plans to harm the child would not be found out. We should not act against him unless we have no other choice."

"So what will we do?" asked Thomas again.

"We wait and we observe. The King is confused now, but if Jane can see who she really is, it is only a matter of time before the King's denial wore off. His anger would be immense then, perhaps with the right words, we can help redirect that anger towards the harlot's children. He has been known to fault the child for the mother's sins before," Edward replied softly.

* * *

_**September 6**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Lord Montmorency has been increasingly displeased lately," Anna de Jacques informed her liege.

Anne nodded and continued their stroll in the maze garden. The place was quiet and a good place for secret meetings such as this, "Did you hear why?" she asked. Anna de Jacques had surpassed Anne's original expectations of the woman. She was an intelligent young woman, who knew how to make herself as invisible as possible at court. She had made herself useful to Anne. She was only a servant maid, many at court would never look twice at her, but it was also this same reason that Anne thought her useful. Courtiers schemed and plotted all the time and they have excellent skills at keeping things quiet amongst each other, but most times they overlooked the servants, viewing them to be too beneath them to be any threat. It was something Anne took full advantage of. It was true that maids knew everything.

To be all honest, Anne knew she was no angel. She was hardly the good Queen that helped the poor with no thought of repayment. She knew that those she helped became useful to her as they feel indebt to her. She rewarded them richly for their loyalty as well, keeping them tied to her. They became her own network of spies in the palace. She was fond of them, that was true, but there was no point in denying that they were her valuable tools in the dangerous games at court. That thought made her cringe inside, to view others as tools had been what her father had done, but she needed to if she wanted to stay powerful on top.

Then again, she had hardly been anything close to an angel in England. She had taken Katherine's position. She had been so paranoid by the end of her reign that she had wanted Katherine and Mary dead. Her own faults and sins, she acknowledged and accepted. It was pointless to dwell on it. Power is secured through wicked means often. She would rather be wicked and secure her children's future than a delusional and self imposed angel.

Anna nodded, "He was displeased with the idea that his Majesty was spending so much money on gifts for your Majesty. He thought the money should be much better used to secure France's military strength or keep the treasury full."

Anne blinked. She had never even considered that point, what were a few gifts? Francis had always been extravagant and at times frivolous. Why was he bringing that up now? It was true that Francis had started to shower her with more and more rich gifts for her ever since King Henry had arrived. She knew it was because he did not want her attention on the English King. She had liked getting the gifts, thus she felt a stirring irritation at Montmorency again. Who was he to decide what Francis gifted her with? She suppressed the irritation though, "And Diane de Poitiers? Have they had much contact?"

Anna shook her head, "I have not seen lady Poitiers much."

"Thank you," Anne told Anna.

Anna smiled and curtsied again, "It is my honor to serve you, your Majesty." She took a turn in the opposite direction of the Queen at the next opening in the maze, leaving the Queen to continue on her walk alone.

* * *

_**September 7**__**th**__**, 1538, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

_She had not wanted to leave. She did not understand why her ladies suddenly wanted her to wear her traveling cloak and packed her bags. Where was her mama, her papa? She had screamed when they attempted to put her into the traveling cloak. _

_Lady Bryan had stopped her screams, "Lady Elizabeth, you must do as you are told," why was she calling her lady, she was a princess wasn't she? Her governess had grabbed her arms tightly, "Now hush or I will hit you." Her voice was loud. Elizabeth had been scared then. Lady Bryan had changed so much!_

_Elizabeth had remained quiet from then on but she had not left the room. _

"_Don't look like that, girl," Lady Bryan had told her other lady, "We are ordered to remove the child so that she could be kept out of the sight of the King,"_

"_Poor little princess," the other lady said quietly as she continued to pack._

"_She is no longer a princess; she is a bastard," Lady Bryan continued, "Master Cromwell has asked for her accounts to be settled. Also in respect for the necessities for her mother in the tower." She had not understood the words, but she knew everything had changed._

_The other lady looked confused, "You mean the child should pay for the mother's imprisonment?"_

"_Yes, out of the money the King pays for her household," Lady Bryan had responded._

She had not completely understood the conversation that her governess had had with another lady, but she understood enough. Her papa had taken away her mama and did not want her anymore. Things had changed greatly when her papa had married a new mama. Her new mama was kind, but Elizabeth could feel that her new mama did not like her nearly as much as she liked her sister, Mary. She missed her own mama.

* * *

_**September 10**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Your Majesty," Lord Brosse bowed to Anne with a well crafted wooden box in his hands.

Anne nodded with a smile, "My Lord."

The Count stepped closer to her and opened the box. A most magnificent ruby necklace rested inside, more beautiful than anything Anne had ever seen before, "A gift from the King," Brosse elaborated, "his majesty asked me to inform your majesty that rubies are a token of passion, it is the passion his majesty holds for his most beloved wife."

Anne smiled and fingered the large necklace in her hands. She took the necklace in her hand and motioned for one of her ladies to help her put it on while another brought her a mirror. As she examined her reflection in the mirror she could not help but notice a small frown on Brosse's face.

"Is something the matter, My Lord?" she asked with some concern.

Brosse's brow furrowed slightly as if debating with himself on whether he should say something or not, finally he nodded, "If I may speak frankly, your Majesty?"

Anne nodded, "Of course." With a wave of her hand, her ladies quietly removed themselves to the opposite side of the room, giving the pair of them a little privacy.

"The King has spent much from the treasury lately, gifts he has been presenting to your majesty almost daily. While the price of the jewels is little in comparison to the costs of war and the innovations for the Palace of Louvre, it is enough to cause whispers at court," he told her.

Anne felt slightly taken back, "Courtiers always whisper. The King has always been indulgent, I see no difference now."

Brosse nodded grimly, "but Your Majesty surely has noticed that the gifts are far more extravagant than before? Each piece surpassing the crown jewels by much, it has accumulated into a small fortune," he paused briefly as he took out a scroll of parchment and handed it to Anne, "these are the costs for the last four gifts."

Anne took the scroll and unrolled it to read. Her brows rose at the sight of the figures, it was indeed a small fortune and it was only four gifts. She could likely fit an army for battle with the cost in front of her. Brosse continued, "The King had not allocated such funds to the army. Nor is much given at all to the plague that has broken out in the south."

"Plague?" she looked up at Brosse in alarm.

The count nodded, "it is small, but to the towns it affected it was rather devastating. Add to the fact that this year, the weather has not been well, leaving a bad harvest for many."

Anne blinked in stunned silence. She had been so absorbed and distracted by the English party that she had not even heard of these new matters. She stood up immediately, "We shall see the King." Brosse and her ladies followed her in surprise.

Francis looked up immediately when he heard the herald announce the arrival of the Queen, "Anne," he greeted her with a smile. She smiled back, but it was not the kind of smile that Francis had expected. It was not the same smile she always bored when she thanked him for a gift she liked. Did she not like the necklace that he had sent to her? But that cannot be true for she was wearing it.

He had felt strange since Henry's arrival. He did not like the attention the man attracted from Anne whenever they did meet, despite of the fact that Anne was avoiding the man. It made him jealous. He showered Anne with gifts after gifts because he wanted her to turn her attention back to him.

"I wanted to thank your Majesty for this beautiful necklace," Anne told Francis, "But I must say that I do not deserve such a gift."

Francis's brows furrowed in confusion, "Does the necklace not please you?"

Anne sighed, "The necklace is stunning, truly, but your majesty has already given me so much, I cannot accept more gifts. I hope to direct such funds to a worthier cause, for the people. I heard about the small breakout of plague in the south and harvest has not been ideal."

"A small plague has never been new. They often breakout once in a while, you need not worry about it," Francis responded.

Anne shook her head, "But things are different now. Your Majesty has eyes on the Holy Roman Empire and to accomplish anything, you need men, soldiers. Soldiers need supplies, food that is harvested from the people. Essentially, if you want to win against the Emperor, you need the love of the people and their support. The courtiers are also displeased about the amount of money your majesty has spent on me. They are your servants, but it would be unwise to alienate them at such a time," she unclasped the ruby necklace and placed it in Francis's hands, with a smile, "You said rubies signify passion, show your subjects your passion for a greater France for I already know of the great passion you feel for me."

Francis nodded. He stepped behind Anne and draped the large necklace on her neck again, closing the clasp to secure it. Then he placed a soft kiss on the back of Anne's neck, "I promise no more frequent expensive gifts, but this is already made. It would be most unfortunate for the goldsmith if the Queen wishes to return it."

Anne turned to face him again, "And the people in the south?"

Francis smiled, "They will receive help in the name of the Queen. All will know what their good and gracious queen has done for them."

Anne smiled in the kiss Francis placed on her lips. She knew that Francis was further building the image she had with the common people. He was creating a symbol for France to unit under. But it was rather helpful to her as well. The more people loved her, the safer she was in France. If anyone thought to take her position of Queen in France now, they would have much to answer to.

* * *

_**September 12th, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

Anne was bored out of her mind. She was once again entertaining Jane Seymour as the Queen of France ought to do for the wife of the King of England. As much as she hated the woman, she was not going to let others claim that she was a bad hostess. But Jane Seymour did nothing to make the task easy. She was the most boring conservationist she had ever had the displeasure to converse with. She had tried to make small talk but the only thing the woman knew of was sewing. The only comfort Anne had was that Jane Seymour seemed to be extremely uncomfortable with her, almost as if she was scared of her and Anne did not have to see her with Henry for she made great effort in avoiding the English King like the plague. Francis helped the matter as he kept the man busy with negotiations and hunting.

They walked in silence as Anne gave Jane a tour of the French gardens. They really had nothing to say to each other, but their ladies chatted amongst of their respective groups. Conversation between the two queens had turned into an annoyance as it always went through an official translator, each bringing their own. Jane did not understand French and Queen Anne did not understand "English." Jane seemed to be impressed by the magnificent garden, as they walked through much of the Renaissance sculptures. Anne was rather amused as she imagined what it must be like for Jane who had never been outside of England before. The magnificence of court had once been overwhelming for the woman but those failed to compare to that of the Palais du Fontainebleau. It was not to say that the French was better than the English necessarily, it was simply different. It was new and impressive to someone who has never been introduced to them.

"Majesties," Lord Montmorency bowed to them as they passed him.

Anne nodded in response. She paid no attention to him and walked on with Jane. She was not going to add fuel to his fire to exposing her. She was going to show him that she could play civil with Jane Seymour when it benefited her and rob him of a scene he no doubt wanted to watch. But to her surprise that had not been what was on his mind as he called after her.

"Your Majesty?" Montmorency's voice seemed to be slightly awkward.

Anne stopped her stroll, causing everyone to stop with her. She turned to Montmorency with an arched brow, the man had made it clear from day one that he was against her but she was curious as to what he was going to say, "My lord?"

Montmorency spoke in a strange tone as if he was surprised by what he was saying, "Your Majesty's suggestion to the King in regards to the _better_ direction for the treasury funds was admirable."

The arch on Anne's brow fell promptly as she stared at the man in confusion. Had he just praised her? She didn't know exactly what to say to him, so she just nodded again.

Montmorency seemed to have thought the situation awkward as well for he quickly bowed again and left the Queens' company, leaving Anne blinking after him. Perhaps she needed to reevaluate the use of Montmorency after all.

Jane watched the exchange with some interest as her translator quickly whispered the meaning of the conversation into her ear. She did not enjoy spending time with the harlot because she always made her uncomfortable. Nevertheless Jane had remained quiet and pretended as best as she could that the woman before her was not Anne Boleyn. Her brothers had warned her that the King would be angry when he finally came to the conclusion of who the French Queen was and it would not be in Jane's best interest to point out this fact to him. So she and Anne carried on this charade they had going on. At least Anne had refrained from her terrifying gaze since the first night.

As she watched, even she could tell that there was a strange atmosphere between the harlot and the French lord. Could it be that Anne Boleyn was not as popular in court as she was supposedly with the common people of France? Yet what really confused her was the fact that the lord seemed to appreciate the fact that Anne had made suggestions to the King politically. Anne Boleyn had always made her opinions known. She played a large role politically at the height of her power in England. It was exactly what Jane would never do. A wife was supposed to be obedient in nature and leave such manly matters to her husband. She had always kept her mouth shut with her husband. Hadn't the last two women before her shown her a prime example of what would happen to women who was too vocal? Henry had reminded her of it harshly when she had wanted to interfere on behalf of Mary.

Making any suggestions to the King was almost unthinkable to Jane now. Anne's strong and stubborn nature had been why the King had found Jane so appealing then. Had she not learned from her mistakes? Why was she still so keen on expressing her opinions as a woman in France? Did the French King approve his wife's actions? It seemed like he listened to Anne. Henry never listened to her. She could not help but feel that while they were now both Queens, they lived in completely different worlds.

* * *

_**September 15th, 1538 Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"The treaty is nearly finalized," Francis told Anne as they readied for bed. He could see that she was avoiding King Henry as she rarely made a public appearance in front of him, so instead he kept her updated on the news.

Anne nodded, "Are there any talk of a marriage alliance?" she asked.

Francis shook his head, "No, Francois is a boy and so is the Prince Edward. England has no princess close to Francois's age."

Anne smiled, "Princess," the word rolled off of her tongue, "What determines who is a princess? Is it not just simply a decision by King Henry? He is after all the most powerful man in England now. If he wishes he could always legitimatize his two daughters."

There was a long silence before Francis spoke, "Is that what you want? For Elizabeth to be a princess again?"

"She is of the right age for Charles," she responded. Perhaps it was wrong to use Francis's love for her to push him into helping her, but he was a great resource, a powerful ally.

"If she was legitimatized so would the marriage between Anne Boleyn and Henry. He would have to bastardize his son Edward, granted he would gain another legitimate prince, it is still a risky move," he left the part of it would bastardize Francois out.

Anne laughed humorlessly, "Anne Boleyn is _dead, _and she will stay dead_. _People can't come back from death; it would change nothing." She could not keep the bitterness out of her voice. It was strange really. For months, Anne had built a collected image, one of calmness and intelligence, but few days of Henry, she felt herself lose control. They truly pushed each other's buttons.

Francis took her hand into his and squeezed it briefly, then placed a kiss on them, "As you wish". And why not? If the English King decided to legitimatize his daughter by Anne Boleyn in England it would start chaos in England once again. He would be so busy dealing with internal problems that he could not ally with the Emperor even if he wanted to. Besides, if Elizabeth was anything like her mother, she would prove to be a worthy consort to Charles. He could not control the happening of England but he can certainly plant the idea, to start the process.

* * *

_**September 17**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Uncle," Anne smiled at Antonine Sanguin de Meudon, he had arrived at court months ago. Through this time, Anne had observed him carefully. He was intelligent that was to be sure. He also knew the reality. He knew his good position rested in that she remained in favor. He knew his fate was tied with hers the moment he had asked Adrien de Pisseleu about his supposedly dead niece. He had pledged his loyalty and now it was time for him to act upon it.

"Your Majesty," he bowed to her.

Anne picked up the document on her desk and handed it to him, "The King has approved that you shall be the new Ambassador to England, and he wishes to make you an Earl."

Antonine's eyes widened fractionally, but otherwise remained completely calm, "Thank you, your majesty."

Anne nodded, and took a seat, and leaned back, "Let us be clear, Uncle," her tone was smooth but the air in the room became heavy, "You shall not only be the King's ambassador in the Tudor court, you are to be my eyes and ears. Your job is to keep me informed of every little detail that happens in the English court. You are to act on all opportunities in favor of Elizabeth and William, my children, but be subtle. Do not let your position be found out."

Antonine nodded, "Of course."

Anne smiled. "Remember, uncle, it would be in ours and France's best interest that the Duke of Somerset and Pembroke becomes the next King of England."

The soon to be Earl nodded, but asked, "It is to my knowledge that Jane Seymour has had a son who the King of England calls Prince. How does your majesty suggest that I proceed in the matter?"

Anne laughed, "I am not asking you hurt the wrench's boy. He is a sickly child and likely nature will run its course. If not, it will matter little in time. You will have allies in England, Thomas Boleyn may be one, but do not appear too friendly with him in public. King Henry is not stupid. Never let your guard down."

Antonine bowed. Anne smiled. She rather wished to see Jane Seymour's face when she was faced with the situation where William was King and not her son, Edward.

* * *

_**September 18th, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

The Kings of England and France were having a private dinner in which they were discussing the terms of an alliance treaty. Things were rather awkward between the two as both were well aware of the French Queen's appearances and resemblance to someone else, but to everyone's surprise, the English King has yet to explode. Given what he knows about the English King, Francis thought it was only a matter of time. He could, after all, already perceive the tension between Henry and his courtiers. It was amusing to watch them tip toe around the English King as if he was going to eat them anytime. It was a small wonder how Anne had put up with him for nearly ten years.

"If only we can strengthen our alliance with a marriage between our children," Francis lamented almost tauntingly. He was jealous, he knew that. He hated the fact that despite the fact that Anne hated Henry, she also loved him. He could see the spark of life that the King of England brought back in his wife. It was a spark that had not been there for him. It made him angry, and perhaps a bit childish with his interactions, "I had thought that perhaps if Anne had a daughter, she could be betrothed to your son, Edward, but alas, god blessed her with a healthy and strong prince for France."

Henry nearly twitched. He and Francis always had a competitive streak with each other. The time they met for Mary's betrothal to the late Dauphin, they had gotten into a fight that nearly broke the alliance. Now, they were both much older, much more experienced rulers, a physical fight was beneath them, but Henry really wanted to punch him. He was going to say that the Queen of France may have a daughter soon, but decided against it. He sometimes could not separate her from the other in his minds. It made him rather sick to imagine his Anne having children with Francis. As for Jane, he fully expected a Duke of York from her and not a princess. So he said nothing it all.

"These days I find that daughters are increasingly useful. I wished I had more daughters," Francis spoke quietly, for a moment he remembered the daughter he had sent to Scotland and clenched his fists. He had always viewed it to be a great mistake; it was far too cold for the frail Madeline. Yet they had begged him, she had been in love. He couldn't deny her happiness, for she had always been his favorite child, "Your daughter, Elizabeth, she is five years old now, no?"

Henry blinked. What was the King Francis playing at? He knew full well that England had tried to make a marriage alliance between Elizabeth and Charles of France at one time, but he had refused the match. Why was he bringing Elizabeth up now? "Yes."

"Hm…pity, our negotiations for a match between Charles and her had not gone through the first time," Francis replied as he took a sip of wine. The comical expression on King Henry's face at his words made him wish to laugh.

* * *

_**September 19**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

As soon as the doctors had agreed that Anne's health was completely recovered, Francis had ordered a grand feast in celebration. Of course that included the English party, of which Anne was not exactly fond of.

She had taken to dress well for the banquet though, wearing a stunning ivory dress and the ruby necklace that Francis had given her. Her hair was pulled to one side, trailing down the front of her dress on the left side in loose curls. Several pieces of leaves made of gold arranged in a fan shape served as a head dress, placed into braids at the back of her head. There were small rubies that were sprinkled throughout her dark hair, glittering in the light like small red stars. Needless to say, she had attracted the attention of the entire court as she out shown Jane once again.

It was not because Jane Seymour's dress and jewels she had chosen were of a lesser quality (well perhaps the jewels, as Francis has spent a fortune on Anne's new jewels), but it was because of the air that Anne had always carried around her. She was confidant, and exotic like that she just naturally became the center of the attention. While Jane dressed well, she was in a way too shy to really ever outshine Anne in the French court who adored the woman's fashion sense.

Henry's eyes rarely left Anne from the moment he laid eyes on her at the feast. Even when he conversed with others, he kept her in the corner of his eyes. The French Queen was a stunning sight, and once again the sight of her caused strange knots to appear in his stomach. He had had an urge to see her since he first saw her, but for some reason, Francis kept him away as if afraid of letting him get too close. While he was busy with the French King, Jane was the one who got to spend time with her. He had asked her what she thought of the French Queen, but as usual, Jane never really had an opinion.

He heard a laugh, like bells, exactly like his Anne's laugh, catching his attention and drew him from his thoughts as he once again found himself staring at her. She was speaking to some French courtiers that seemed to be in Francis's favor. They had obviously said something amusing to her. There was a sparkler in her eyes, the same sparkle as his Anne. He clenched his jaws briefly, as he wished to be where the courtiers were. It was a disturbing thought as why would he want to spend time with a woman who looked exactly like someone who had betrayed him in the worst way?

"Your Majesty?" it was Jane, his wife.

Henry regrettably withdrew his attention from Anne and faced his own wife, "Sweetheart." He could not cover up the fact that he had been staring at the French woman, they both knew that, but Jane said nothing about it, "Would you like to dance?" he asked her. It was only proper that the King and Queen shared a dance. Jane was not the best dancer, unlike his Anne, but she was passable. The thought did make him wonder if Queen Anne of France was a good dancer as well for he had yet to see her dance.

Jane nodded with a smile that Henry returned. He really was very grateful to her for giving him a son and she was an example wife, but regrettably she did not ignite any passion in him. No one ignited any true fire in his soul other than Anne.

To his surprise and perhaps delight, Francis and his wife joined them on the dance floor. It was quickly apparent that Queen Anne was like an angel when she danced. Her steps were light, almost like she was floating across the space. It was a rather good match with Francis who was also quite the skilled dancer. He could not help but noticed the looked of adoration in Francis's eyes as his attention was seemingly completely absorbed by his wife, but that look was not returned by the Queen. She seemed very comfortable and friendly with him though. She was at ease as if feeling protected by the man she danced with. Once again Henry rather wished he was Francis at the moment.

When the dances concluded, it was agreed that the royal couple would exchange partners. It had been the moment Henry had waited for all night. He had never gotten to spend much time up close to the woman, as she often claimed to be feeling unwell, but now was his chance. The dance started in a slow manner, each of them knowing the steps well. She was just as graceful as before, but he could sense the unease that was present as well. She did not feel safe with him and it puzzled Henry. Why would the French Queen be so ill at ease with a man she had only recently met and never really talked to?

"Are you enjoying your stay in France, Your Majesty?" she asked in French. Her voice made Henry nearly stumble and make a fool of himself in public. It was the same as his Anne's.

"Yes, France is a beautiful country," he replied back in equal fluent French as he was taught as a young boy. He was told by Brandon that the French Queen did not speak English, although she was very accomplished in many other languages.

There was then silence as Henry returned to staring and the dance steps sped up. By the middle part of the dance, he was starting to feel slightly anxious. The man was supposed to offer his hand to the woman as two lined up rows of dancers joined together. The moment her hand touched his, he felt a jolt. Whenever he and Anne touched, it has always been electric, sending sparks throughout his body. Even when he had begun to hate her, she was still an enigma to him; she still caused the hair on his body to stand. She alone, incited such response in him. As he held her hand for the conclusion of the dance, he felt that feeling return to him.

Anne was aware something had changed in Henry the moment their hands touched. Her heart pounded, wondering if he had finally realized the truth. She nearly spoke a blessing when the music ended for the dance and she withdrew her hand quickly before he could react. Putting on her best calm smile, she curtsied to him and nearly ran to Francis.

Henry did not say anything as he too walked to Jane. He needed to be alone, to think. His mind was racing, and he needed to calm himself, to think this through. He watched the woman in question carefully for the rest of the night, making a million comparisons in his mind.

Francis felt rather smug as he noticed Anne rushing back to him after the dance. He had spent the entire dance having a very boring conversation in English with the Queen Jane. He had not really been aware of her presence, but he could not help but note that his original assumption was correct. She was utterly boring. Perhaps she made a good English wife, but she certainly failed to compare in his book. "How was the dance?" he asked, he could not help it. He despised the fact that Henry had been so close to _his _Anne, and he felt a rather childish urge to whisk Anne away and keep her hidden from the King of England.

"Strange," Anne replied. It was the truth. She spent the rest of the evening nearly attached to Francis's side for she knew if Henry gathered his thoughts completely he was going to explode. It was less likely that he would explode in her face, if the French King was next to her.

* * *

_**September 20**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

When Thomas Boleyn, the Earl of Wiltshire had received the message from the King's page that he was to attend to the King immediately, he knew he would not leave the King's chambers unscathed. He had watched the Royals carefully during the night. He saw the looks that his King had sent to the French Queen especially after their dance. The French Queen…that was a foreign word on his tongue still, he had known that Anne had become the French Queen, but to see it with his own eyes, it was something different. He had still felt the shock even though he had been well aware of the situation.

"Your Majesty," he bowed to his regent.

King Henry just scowled fiercely at the man before him. Now that he was away from that face and those eyes, he could finally think straight and he did not like the conclusion he had come to. . He knew her touch better than any man in the world. He knew Anne's hands, and the feeling of holding them. He knew the softness of her skin. He was suddenly very aware that the woman was not Anne de Pisseleu as he so desperately wished to believe, but instead, no matter how impossible it may be, she was Anne Boleyn.

How was that possible? It could not be. How had she deceived him? How had she escaped from the tower? There were a million questions in his mind, all of which he had no answers to. He felt foolish for wanting to believe that she was Anne Boleyn when the truth was staring him in the face. He hated when he was made a fool, and here she was making him appear to be biggest fool in Europe. She had already embarrassed him with her sinful acts, making him a laughing stock, but now she had gone too far, setting herself as a pretender in a foreign court.

"I want to know the truth, is Anne dead?" he asked or perhaps the better word would be hissed

The earl sighed mentally. He had been prepared for this question, "My daughter Anne died nearly two years ago." The answer did not feel much like a lie. Despite his coldness and ambitions in pushing his daughters into the King's bed, he was aware of their feelings. Mary fell in love easily and often, and she always ended up getting hurt because of it, but she bounced back easily as well. Anne was different. She did not love easily, but when she did love, nothing stood in her way. She loved most fiercely, and when she was hurt from love, she would not bounce back. Anne Boleyn had died in the tower, killed by her husband's betrayal. The Queen of France was no longer Anne Boleyn.

His daughter, Anne Boleyn, was intelligent but she spoke her mind. She was almost haughty and proud from the days that King Henry had spoiled her. She was the friendliest to her allies, but she was cruel to those against her. Most of the time, she wore her emotions on her face if you knew how to read her. But now, the Queen of France was different. She had changed and learnt from her past mistakes. Even from the short time Thomas had observed her, and never from up close as she seemed to avoid him as well, he could already see that this Anne was calmer, much more calculating, and wore an iron mask. She had nearly lost her head, being so close to death, it had changed her. She was so much colder, the passion and spark in her eyes was so muted that it seemed almost gone.

The King snarled at his answer. He grabbed Thomas's collar and pushed him against the wall, "I asked you if she was dead, and I will hear the truth," he hissed angrily.

Thomas shuddered internally; yes this will not end well at all. The King knew, but Thomas could not answer truthfully out loud, that would be the same as signing his own death away, "My daughter is dead," he repeated softly.

King Henry growled as he pushed him away making the Earl stumble and knocking many things over, "If you will not answer, I will simply just ask someone else." With that said the King of England turned from the room and strode out in search of the answer to his questions. It did not take him long before he found her in the corridors with her ladies.

Henry's eyes narrowed as he spoke to her in English, "You are Anne, aren't you?" it wasn't spoken like a question, more like a statement, a conclusion that he had finally admitted to himself.

Anne mustered a confused expression, "Pardon? Your Majesty, I do know understand the language," she responded in flawless French.

Henry scowled, "You are her. I know it."

Anne's heart skipped a beat, "Perhaps we can postpone this conversation for when my official translator is present if your Majesty insists upon using your native language," she told him calmly as she turned to leave. She did not get far at all as she felt Henry grab her wrist tightly, almost painfully, as he pulled her closer to him never lifting the pressure.

His eyes bore into hers. Anne felt the temperature rise between them. Their interactions had always been like fire. And now, despite everything that has happened, that fire had not disappeared. Emotions stirred between them, whether it was hate, love, anger, sorrow, a mixture of all, it was electric, it had always been. Anne felt a sharp pain in her heart at the emotions that was starting to overwhelm her again. She and Henry had had something special, but he had thrown it all away. Seeing his possessive eyes, it made her angry, for he no longer had that right. He had given up his claim on her the moment he decided that he would rather see her murdered to marry the Seymour whore than see justice prevail. Her lips pursed as she attempted to jerk her arm away, but his hold held strong.

She glared at him. She could feel the stares that her ladies were giving them. They did not understand English so they had no idea what the King Henry had said to her, but his actions were most improper. However, he was a King, and they did not know how to act under the circumstance. "Release me," Anne commanded in French. Even if she wanted to admit to the truth she would not in front of her ladies. Everyone knew that the Queen did not understand English, and it would simply not do for her to suddenly demonstrate mastery at the skill.

"I will not. Not until you tell me the truth," he hissed back to her, still in English. His grip was making her skin around his fingers turn white as he cut off her circulation in that arm.

She ignored him and tried to pull her arm out again, but he was stronger. They ensued in an almost tug of war as they pulled back and forth, Anne trying to free herself and Henry refusing to let go. The tension between them was thick, as their eyes met, fighting for dominance.

"You will release _my_ wife," the cold voice made both Anne and Henry jump and turn to the newcomer. Their eyes found the French King with a neutral expression on his face, but his eyes said it all. They were darkened by a storm of rage, narrowed harshly at his equal in England. He was furious.

* * *

**Author's note:**

Not much action really, mostly feelings and memories (I felt it necessary, also kind of like the calm before the storm.) Really long though, longer than even last time.

As you all predicted, everyone around Henry will suffer his wrath and it will only get worse before it gets better. Every action has a consequence. If the King is not happy, people will suffer. I might as well warn all that Anne's children will suffer in the chapters to come. Hardships shape a person, and I believe that it defined Elizabeth's character in the years to come. Every action has a consequence.

As for Anne, she hates Henry, but she cannot control the spark that he stirs up in her soul. It is not something she could change, at least not yet, because she hasn't really dealt with the entire matter, so her emotions are a bit everywhere. I hope that came across.

As Glorianafan pointed out, Francis is not a saint. He has his faults, faults that become more evident when he starts to get jealous, no one can be perfect. The main difference between Francis and Henry is that Francis was more of a Renaissance man, and he already has his throne secured. If Claude had not given birth to three sons, I do not doubt she would have a fate not much different from Katherine of Aragon (things are worse in France, as daughters cannot inherit the throne). Henry and Francis were both known to be rather intelligent and capable Kings, only Henry tends to let his emotions get the best of him at times. Then again, Anne is not perfect as well. You know what they say, revenge often blinds. (plus, there were times when Anne in the show went on about Mary and Katherine, that I thought she had lost her mind. Personally I thought all the stress and pressure from Henry, nearly drover her crazy and extremely paranoid, not the case in this story.) I like to write the characters with multiple sides. I find it challenging to right good sides for the characters I hate and bad sides for characters I love, but I hope that they do come across as a little more human and multidimensional.

_Please excuse my rather long rant of an author's note as this chapter drove me crazy (as stated in my profile). I really want to take this moment and thank everyone who had reviewed, alerted or favorited this chapter again. This chapter would have taken forever to write without you guys. Truly thank you. _

_**AN2 (re-uploaded):** Glorianafan pointed out something that was unclear about Jane and Anne scene after the first upload of the story. There are two translator present when they meet always. I apologize, it slipped my mind, but it is fixed. Thank you. If you guys see anything I have written wrong or forgotten to write, let me know. You guys help me catch my major mistakes! Thanks everyone.  
_

_**Please review! **_

_Until next time,_

_Cruelangel_


	10. Chapter 9: Past, present, future

**Title: Nemesis**

**Author: **Cruelangel101

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...Not the characters, not the show, and certainly not the production company…can anyone own history?**

**Detailed Summary:** Starting from the scene where Anne watched her brother's execution, Anne finds herself pregnant with the King's child. They thought she was saved, but the King still enraged and determined to marry Jane Seymour, chose to believe the child was the offspring of one of the executed man. Anne's execution was determined to proceed after the birth of her child. A plot from an unexpected family member, rescued her from the tower and in the most bizarre chain of events she ended up as the Queen of France. All the while her rival Jane Seymour rises to the position of Queen of England. Her heart cold from betrayal and filled with hopes for revenge, what would the future hold? Can new warmth melt her iced heart or will past spark ignite once more? This time when two men battle for her heart, the consequence is war. (Queen of France and son after the tower ideas are hardly new to fanfic, but I would like take a new spin on it.)

**Pairings:** Anne/Francis I and Anne/Henry VIII (both in some ways)

**AN:** I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed and/or favorite and/or alerted this story.

Sorry for the rather long delay, I had two weeks of finals, and usually it take me a week to write a chapter, and now also sometime for my new beta to review it. Hopefully in a bit, we will get it to a point where I would finish writing a chapter when she is done reviewing a chapter.

So, a great thank you to my new beta, **Audriel**.

This is the chapter where I start shifting the focus of politics to an international level. I learned things doing the research, hope you guys like it!

**Nemesis…the Greek goddess of revenge…**

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Past, Present, and Future**

_One cannot change the past and it would be pointless to dwell on it in the present, but the past affects the present and the present shapes the future. _

_**September 20**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"_You will release my wife."_

Henry's attention fell on his rival, he dropped his arm in surprise but he did not release Anne's wrist. He mirrored the French King's narrowed gaze, equally angry, "Since when has_ she_ become _your wife_?" he snarled to Francis.

"_Brother_, have you forgotten that I married the _Queen of France_ a year ago?" the French King's voice was cold and sarcastic; "I must insist that you release her majesty's arm. Violence against your host monarch is rather presumptuous about your own safety."

Henry glared at the King of France, but reality seemed to have caught up with him and he slowly released Anne's arm, "Are you threatening me?" Anne took the moment to quickly step away from her first husband and into the mist of her ladies, who quickly surrounded their Queen as the shock wore off, replaced with justified anger, France had just been insulted. How dare the English King touch their Queen? Had he no respect for France? The Queen's body is sacred, and as a King he should have been well aware of that fact.

Anne held her arm close to her body as blood started to return to it. The pain was still present and ugly red finger marks were starting to show. She had seen red when Henry had grabbed her arm forcefully. If Francis had not appeared when he did, she was sure that she would have said something she would regret later. She had almost snapped back a biting remark in English, but the French King's appearance had been like a dose of ice water. It brought her mind to more important things at hand. There was no way to stop the gossip of court now. This would be the talk of the season in a matter of hours. Anxiety filled her, but she played the part of the innocent victim who was just attacked by the unpredictable English King. She knew the French did not know much about Henry, but the man had long since had a reputation that far preceded him. She could only make use of it now for damage control.

Francis arched a brow, "Was that really a question? You just acted most unforgivably against my wife, our most beloved Queen of France; _it is just cause for war!_ You can be sure that France will defend our Queen's honor," the French King hissed back with equal anger.

"Honor? What honor? She is a WHORE! She seduced me using witchcraft and now she has her claws into you," Henry continued to snarl in English, "France has been most disgraced to have her as Queen. It is an insult." Anne flinched unconsciously from the word 'whore', she remembered a time when many called her that in England but he had always defended her. Now he was the one calling her that. He had called her that before, when their relationship fell apart, but even now, it hurt her more than she cared to admit, because he said it.

King Henry's words seemed to have set Francis off as he pushed the man back. "You will not insult my wife," his lips barely moved, but the information was unmistakable. His hands gripped the English King's collar tightly, his knuckles almost turning white. The anger didn't just arise from the King's insults of Anne, but also because France had been insulted. Anne's position as Queen of France should have made Henry at least behave cordially toward her even if he hated her. Yet it appeared that France's standing was so low in the English King's eyes that he would risk open war when he acted against his host country. It was unacceptable, intolerable.

Henry was not to be cornered by Francis though and he pushed back, but Francis was taller and stronger. Henry's leg had been injured in a joust and although it had healed mostly, it hindered his movements at times and when the weather changed, it often caused him a great deal of pain. Nevertheless, he did put up a good fight, forcing Francis to take a step back as the King began an unplanned wrestling match.

By this time, the English courtiers were all alerted and many came rushing to defend their King. The French rushed to their King's aid as well, not ones to be shown up by the English. The scene became a chaotic mess, leaving the women screaming and backing away.

Anne watched the encounter with alarm. Initially, while Francis had defended her honor because he was jealous, he had also done it because it was expected of him as the King of France and as a husband. However, in their exchange, the French King had let the other man get under his skin. He had lost control of his temper. Both were becoming a bit of a laughing stock in European monarchy. She had no doubt, rumors will circulate around the court in a matter of hours, and ambassadors of each country would be frantically writing letters to their sovereigns recounting the event. This was not only a matter of embarrassment for England but for France as well.

She could only describe this scene as ridiculous. She thanked the Lord when some courtiers finally had the mind to pull the Kings apart. Both were snarling at each other, as obvious anger overshadowed any political propriety. Francis's cloths were ruffled but he seemed to have come out on top. On the other hand, King Henry did not appear to be injured, but his cloth seemed to be more disheveled. Anne momentarily had the thought that it was good that neither Francis nor Henry had carried a sword and Francis had not challenged the King of England to an official duel as would be his right.

It took a lot of pulling and shouting before the courtiers managed to get the two kings apart and out of sight of each other as they stepped in between the two ruling monarchs. Eventually, the French Courtiers managed to convince King Francis to leave the scene, although the King of England was still shouting unbearably loud.

After his ministers' interference, Francis calmed enough to straighten his cloths somewhat before turning and walking back to his chambers with the French court trailing behind him. Anne too walked solemnly after her current husband, as her ladies watched her carefully in case their rather pale looking Queen fainted. The shouting dulled the further they walked, but the tension only grew.

_**Later**_

Jane flinched as the last wooden chair in the room hit the wall and broke into pieces. She kept her eyes averted to the ground and counted pieces of her husband's newest destruction. This chair had broken into seven pieces, that was one less than the last one. The box Henry had thrown before that had only broken in half. Besides the chairs were the table, that one had broken spectacularly, almost like a firework because it had been large and thin.

With the Queen of England stood the higher ranks of the English Court, including Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, and Jane's brothers. It was also no surprise that Thomas Boleyn had conveniently absented himself. The King was so influenced by his anger that he had not remembered to inquire after the Earl's whereabouts and under normal circumstances, Jane was sure that her brothers would not have missed the chance to direct the anger of the King toward the Harlot's father. However, this was not normal.

The King had finally realized the truth that he had been denying himself since he first set eyes on the Queen of France. She knew, her brother knew, everyone but the King knew. Well perhaps not everyone knew as most of the English had written it off as a matter of coincidence as they could not believe it otherwise as it was so far-fetched. Yet she was fairly sure that Charles Brandon knew, and let's not forget, Thomas Boleyn. He knew, of course he knew, the Harlot was his daughter after all.

But the heart of the matter was not who knew, but the fact that the King was furious, more furious than Jane had ever seen him. It scared her greatly. She had not been at the confrontation between the King and the French King but she had heard the story from her brothers quickly. They along with Charles Brandon had helped pull the two Kings apart. Jane never thought she would actually see two Kings fight over one woman. Granted, one King was threatening the Harlot and the other was protecting, but it was still all for her. The influence that the harlot had on both monarchs was astounding. Was this what people meant by witchcraft?

She was the only woman who caused such emotions to rise out of Jane's husband. Before Jane had arrived at Court, she had heard of the great love that the King had once bore for the woman. That love had eventually turned into hate equally as strong. Yet that hate stemmed from the fact that he cared. She didn't think that he loved her still, but he cared for her on some level. It was a fact that made Jane quite uncomfortable, knowing that no matter what she did, no matter the fact that she had given him a son, he would never look at her with such intensity.

She really shouldn't be jealous of the Harlot though. Jane was the model wife, obedient and quiet, the example of an English wife, while the harlot's actions had been disgraceful. It was Jane's son that would be the future King of England and not her son. Jane was a beloved Queen of England while the Harlot was still spoken with great disgust by the English people. And despite the intensity in her husband's eyes, it came with anger, anger that Jane quite wished was never directed at her.

No, she was not exactly jealous, but perhaps a little confused. She did not understand the politics of men (as it was not what a good wife should be concerned with) but even she could see that something was wrong between England and France. The French courtiers' attitude had cooled considerably during the amount of time it took Jane to hear of the news and walk to her husband's chambers. She could see the worry on Charles Brandon's face and even her brothers'. She knew that her brothers had wanted an alliance with the Emperor because he supported her due to Mary's support, but they still looked worried. It must have had to do with the French alliance. She was quite sure that getting in a fight with the King of France was not something to be appreciated here in the midst of a treaty, but there was nothing she could do. Her only job and duty was to obey her husband's wishes and wait for His Majesty to calm down again. France and England's relations were for the men to worry about.

On the other side of the room, the equally quiet Charles Brandon kept his eyes rooted to the ground as well. The Queen had been alerted to the changing events as soon as the Kings went on their separate ways. She had followed her brothers back for whatever reason, perhaps to offer some condolences to the King? But no one in the room had made a move or a noise since their arrival. The only sounds were the King's frustrated yells as he threw furniture around.

The King's reaction had not been a surprise. It was what Brandon had expected since he had first made up his mind to tell the King about the Queen of France. But there was one problem. Despite not being a supporter of an alliance with France, even he knew that this incident had severely harmed relations with France. The worst part was that they were still in France with only two hundred men. From what he had been told, Francis had a large army placed just outside of Paris to avoid situations like the battle of Paris again and they were only an arm's reach away as a threat to the English party.

"Charles!" the King's angry voice made the entire room jump.

Brandon quickly bowed, "Your Majesty."

The King stopped his movements and seemed to have calmed slightly after the last chair broke, "Inform the rest of our party to begin packing. I no longer wish to stay in this country."

"What of the alliance, Your Majesty?" Brandon asked but regretted as soon as the question was spoken.

"Alliance?" the King hissed, "England need not make an alliance with the likes of _him. _ He attacked me unjustly. His actions have insulted England greatly. We will leave as soon as possible."

The King's tone left no room for discussion, not that Brandon really would have. It had been Cromwell and Thomas Boleyn who had wanted a French Alliance, while the room's occupants much preferred an Imperial one. Brandon bowed again before leaving to do as he was ordered.

_**In the French King's Private Office…**_

"He is leaving? Are you sure?" Brosse's voice was urgent as he questioned the page boy that had brought the news.

The young page nodded, "Yes, My Lord, the King of England had ordered for his servants to start packing. I saw it with my own eyes."

The silence that followed the statement made the young page rather nervous for even he understood the tension of such a move and here he was reporting to the King, the Queen and the Queen's favorite, Lord Brosse. All of them were very important people, and most importantly, all of their moods showed that they were likely to lose their tempers, which would not be good for him.

"Very well, you may leave," the lord dismissed the page much to the boy's relief. The longer he stayed the more danger he was in.

Once the page left, the Lord Brosse redirected his attention back to the fuming King. The incident between the two Kings was common knowledge by this time. While many of the French courtiers were rightly outraged by the conduct of the English King, the matter of a military alliance between the two countries was still on the table. France had won a battle against the Emperor, but the war was not over. An English alliance, even if they offered nothing would at the very least secure France one less enemy. Now with the alliance seemingly broken, what was to stop the English King from joining an alliance with the Spanish out of spite?

He could not help but notice that all of this revolved around the Queen. It was because the English King had threatened the Queen that King Francis had attacked the man. But why was the Queen involved at all? The rumors around court said that the Queen looked like Anne Boleyn of England. Enough so that even the woman's husband, the King of England had thought her the late woman. Another point of intrigue was that the English King had only exploded now, if it was purely based on experience why had he not done so when he first met the Queen? He took a glimpse at the Queen herself, who looked rather pale. Brosse would like to credit the Queen's appearance due to surprise, but something did not add up right. The English court's response to their King's actions almost seemed like they were waiting for it to happen. They had seen the resemblance as well.

Diane de Poitiers and Montmorency had something on the Queen before they had suddenly stopped suggesting they were perhaps pressured by someone much more powerful, the King. Was what they had related to the Queen's resemblance to the other woman as well? Or perhaps was it because it wasn't as simple as a resemblance. Perhaps, the Queen _was_ Anne Boleyn. This thought nearly caused the young lord to gasp out loud. This was an insane thought, but everything came together. The English King had eventually realized that Queen Anne was his second wife, Anne Boleyn, after their interactions, which explained his delayed response. Resemblance was hardly a threat to the Queen, but if she was Anne Boleyn, it was another story. This must be the reason that Poitiers and Montmorency thought they could rid of the Queen.

It was almost unthinkable how such a plot came to be. How a woman of English birth, rose to be the Queen of England and then Queen of France, it must be the first time in history for such an occurrence. Most importantly, the King seemed to be well aware of the Queen's past and had protected her. Based on this fact alone, Brosse knew better to point his newly discovered knowledge out loud, especially not now when tension was so high. Besides he stood more to gain if he remained in _great_ favor with the Queen rather than only in favor with another. It was also true that while he had much to gain, he could so lose more, but it was a gamble he was willing to take. Was not one of Queen Anne's new mottos, _there is nothing to gain unless you are willing to take the risk?_

Francis paced the room, still angry. He had never lost his temper so badly; this new sensation was rather foreign to him. He wanted to just declare war on the English King, to watch his expression at realizing he was still in a foreign land, and now a hostile foreign land, but he knew the nobility would not agree to it just yet. He worked hard to consolidate the monarchy's power, but even so, many nobles still had a great deal of power, remnants of feudalism. There were still lands under France that were ruled autonomously by dukes or other nobles. They were not in England, where despite Francis's current hatred for the King, he could not help but feel a slight twinge of jealousy and grudging respect for the English King's success at centralizing the power of the crown.

"He is leaving then," Francis repeated what he had heard.

Brosse nodded, "Perhaps with your Majesty's permission, I can attempt to pacify King Henry's anger?"

The Count's words caused the King of France to stop pacing suddenly and turned sharply to face the Lord, "Pacify him? As if we were in the wrong?" the tone was very cold.

Brosse suddenly felt like he should not have remained in the room. He had overestimated the King's ability for tolerance. He bowed quickly, "Forgive me, Your Majesty, I meant not to suggest such a thing."

Francis just waved a hand, "Leave us. Tell no one to approach that idiot of a King. If he wishes to leave France, so be it. It saves us all time in turning him out of here. Inform the lords that I no longer wish to finish plans for an alliance."

Brosse nodded, and with a bow, he quickly left the room, leaving only the King and Queen of France alone. There were always other alliances to be made.

All of this time, Anne watched Francis fume. She knew that he had been jealous for a long time, and Henry's recent actions only made things a great deal worse. She felt shaken from her earlier encounter, but she did not want France to stop the alliance with England. It was through this alliance that she was supposed to gain a foothold in England. She had planned to send her "Uncle" there based on this alliance. Now it was likely that he would never even set foot in England, and even if he did manage to secure his ambassador position to England, his status there would be greatly diminished. This break would set her plans back completely.

"Your Majesty, perhaps an alliance with England is still the wise thing to do?" she suggested to Francis. He had always listened to her words of advice and she saw no difference in it now, "France's position is still not strong. Against the Holy Roman Empire, we need allies."

To Anne's surprise, her words caused Francis to scowl fiercely, "Henry VIII of England just insulted your position as the _Queen of France_. It would do you a great deal of good if you remembered your priorities and where your alliances should fall, Madame."

It was the first time Francis had ever been harsh to her and surprisingly it caught Anne off guard. Had she taken his usual mellow temper for granted? "I did not mean to suggest anything improper. My suggestions of an alliance with England are for France," she replied.

Francis scoffed, "I think we are both well aware of your true intentions in pushing for the alliance. Do not regard me as foolish enough to believe what you say for appearance's sake," he responded coldly, "or perhaps it isn't just for power in England, perhaps it is for him? I have seen how you look at him. The light that he brings to your eyes," his voice softened suddenly, "You have never looked at me with even a fraction of emotion that he incites from you.

"Our marriage started as one of convenience, of politics, but I fell in love with you. But you don't love me, and at first I thought I would not mind, and that given time you would come around. Seeing you with Henry just reminded me of what I do not have and it infuriated me. I wanted to seduce you, I want you to love me as much as I love you, but you have not even given me a chance. Do you understand how frustrating that is? To try my best in seeking your favor only to have it thrown in my face that your feelings for a man who killed your family and almost killed you is stronger? To know that no matter what I did, you would not give me even a small window of hope because your heart is closed.

"He is a King, but so am I. He was furious because you are my wife now, but do you think I would not be furious for the way _my wife _looks at another man? When he is around, you cannot _see _me." Francis approached Anne and took her hand into his and placed it on his heart, "There is more than one man in the world, Anne. Why could you not accept me when I have offered you my heart?"

Anne felt moved by his speech. She wanted to tell him that he mattered to her as a friend, but she knew that was far from what he wanted to hear. She thought about whether there was a possibility for her to love him, but the idea of loving another after love had betrayed her terrified her. She wanted to tell him that Henry meant nothing to her, but she respected Francis enough not to lie to him about matters of the heart because he had been genuine to her. She loved Henry still, but she hated him just as much. Whether it was hate or love, the man remained on her mind constantly. He had been the reason for why she wanted revenge so badly. Matters like love just paled in comparison to her thirst for revenge. But was it wrong for her to want retribution after everything? Anne didn't think so. Besides men often wanted what they could not have, Henry loved her for nine years, but when he had her mind, body and soul, he started looking for new conquests. What difference would Francis's love be? If she loved him back…she could lose much power if she fell out of his favor. Or perhaps this was really not a matter of politics, but much more of a matter of the heart. But could she treat this only as a matter of the heart? Could she afford to do so?

While Anne's mind battled back and forth, Francis began to frown with the continued silence. He slowly dropped Anne's hand dejectedly, "Or perhaps you never _saw_ me, your past blinding you," he told her and left the room quietly without another word, feeling angry and somber.

Anne blinked. Was revenge blinding her?

* * *

_**September**__**21st, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

She clutched the ring and small dagger in her hand tightly. The gold smith had only recently delivered them. The ring was gold; cast alongside of the ring was rubies. In the top center of the ring was a gold oval plate with a pearl, and the monogram of an E made of diamonds. There was a small, barely noticeable line that ran through the edge of the golden plate.

She handed the ruby ring with the diamond E on it to Thomas Boleyn who looked at her in confusion. This was the first time they had truly met face to face, the first time since her arrest that they spoke to each other. Adrien had brought the man to Anne's solitude so that they may have privacy. It was a very risky move on Anne's part to meet with the man after the occurrence of the day prior, but there were just some things that must be said in person. Besides, everyone's attention had now shifted toward watching the two Kings' every move, worrying if war would break out between the nations. "It is a gift for Elizabeth." She pulled out another ruby necklace, one that she had commissioned a year ago, "This was for her last birthday. I had no way of giving it to her, but you can give it to her. If others ask, you may say it is from you."

Thomas nodded as he took the ring and necklace in his hands. She handed him the dagger next. It was not unlike the ring for Elizabeth, other than the fact that it was not a ring. It was small, only a few inches long. The hilt was made of flattened golden egg set with rubies, and if you looked closely, a small thin line ran across the outside of the egg shaped hilt, "For William, he won't be old enough for it yet, but I want you to give it him when he is ready. I don't want them to grow up without knowing what I even look like."

The Earl gave her a strange look and turned to the gifts with a careful eye. He examined them carefully and noticed that the ring and the dagger had a clasp to it, they were lockets, "Your portrait is inside?" he asked. He did not attempt to open it because it seemed that he needed a sharp tool to pry it open. Anne was careful; she had taken care so that it would not easily open in case others caught sight of it.

"Yes, now there are important matters we must discuss," she changed the subject, "In regards to your future plans for William and Elizabeth."

Thomas tilted his head in puzzlement, "William and Elizabeth will be cared for. The King has summoned them to court and spends a great deal of time with them. Although after recent events, I fear that they will lose favor with the King, and I will no longer be able to protect them." After the fight between the Kings of England and Francis finally parted, King Henry had nearly destroyed his chambers in a fit of rage. Lucky for him, the King's rage had stopped him from thinking clearly and he had not summoned Thomas before him yet and Thomas did everything possible to remain out of sight lest he remind the King of his presence when it was clear he was temporarily forgotten. However, when things calmed down more, Thomas had no doubt; he would be punished severely by the King. He only prayed that the King would find no evidence of his involvement in Anne's escape from the tower.

Anne laughed humorlessly, "You'll survive, you always find a way. To think you could have easily lost your life along with George but you slipped out of all charges didn't you?"

Thomas frowned. Their relationship as daughter and father had been strained before the trial, but it seemed that it was worse than he had expected, "The King always gets what he wants, but you were the only exception. He will need an outlet for his anger. The Seymours will not be foolish enough to pass up this opportunity to turn the King more against us. Everyone will suffer, including Elizabeth and William."

Anne sighed, "I knew of the consequences when I had decided to become the Queen of France. I knew that it would only be a matter of time before he found out I was alive, but nothing in this world is accomplished without sacrifices and hardships. Greatness can only be achieved if we have the courage to play the gamble. The King will surely be displeased with you, but if you say nothing, and I say nothing, he will have no proof."

"You forget the men that had rescued you from the tower. You forget the men that took you to France. You forget the people who knew the original Anne de Pisseleu. Nothing stays a secret forever, Anne. Every action has a consequence. If there was something we wanted to forever hide, we should have never done it in the first place," Thomas told his daughter tiredly. He was exhausted from worry. Since the moment he had stepped foot into France and saw the King's reaction, he had been desperately thinking of a way to worm his way out of the inevitable rage of the King, but now, he had absolutely nothing, only cold acceptance. He was doomed, they were all doomed.

Anne's eyes narrowed, "You regret bringing me to France then?" She felt confused at her father's tone. Despite everything, despite the fact that she had told herself a thousand times over that their bond as family has long been destroyed, she could not help that pang of fear in her stomach. She was afraid that he would say that he regretted saving her life. Even with their differences, he was still her father, the one that had raised her, the one that had doted on her once upon a time.

Thomas was silent for a few moments, before uttering, "Yes," Anne felt her heart sink, and the Earl continued, "In a way. Elizabeth and William's fate would have been better if you had died or at least stayed hidden. Your actions have condemned your children. Don't you see, Anne, if your ambitions had not put you on the throne of a Queen again, the King would never have found out your were alive. You would have lived a peaceful life in the country side of France, as you should have." Anne could hear the irritation in his voice.

"You think it was ambition that made me Queen this time?" Anne hissed in anger, "No, it was circumstance and fate. The opportunity was forced upon me, and I only tried to make the best of it. I admit that it was out of anger, out of a thirst for revenge, but it was also for them. You and I both know well that even if Henry favored William and Elizabeth, that does not change the fact that when he is gone, they will face the worst danger if the Seymours rise to power, when their nephew becomes King." Who was he to talk to her about ambition? If it was not for his ambition, then she would have likely married Henry Percy, and George would still be alive.

"Revenge…you have picked the most powerful man in England as your enemy, Anne. I don't think you can face this challenge, his power and his position now is simply beyond what you can do," Thomas sighed, "But yes, you are right in that the King's favor only lasts as long as he is alive."

Anne pursed her lips briefly. It was nothing new to her that her father did not think she could match Henry, he had always thought they were the reason that she became the Queen of England, but it was not all him, nor George, nor Norfolk or any other man, it was also her. She had made Henry fall in love with her, and at one time he had respected her opinions. He had betrayed her, not them. It was her right to seek revenge. Wasn't there a saying, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? Her rage gave her the power and the will to go against the man, but she did not choose to waste time in arguing this with her father, they had more important matters to discuss, "I believe that we can work for a common goal? To place William on the throne after Henry."

He was rather taken aback by her frankness. To discuss such a thing in England would be treason but she was now the Queen of France. It was something that Thomas had not really considered with much seriousness. He had wanted the King to favor William and Elizabeth and in turn would allow him to rise in court again, but to place William on the throne was an enormous task, one that he did not have the resources to undertake, nor the courage to see it through. If the plan failed, it would be more than just his head on the line. The punishment for high treason then would not be a simple beheading, the King would sure think of a much more painful way to kill him.

They had once done the impossible; the daughter of an Earl had replaced the Spanish Princess as Queen of England. But even then, that was regarding the consort of a King, someone of little importance despite the acknowledged high rank, now, however, it was for the throne itself. This was impossible given the current circumstances. Anne had been found guilty in a court of law; she had been condemned to death. Her marriage to the King was void. Having such a mother put William in severe disadvantage. How could a "bastard" rise above a boy who was already accepted as prince in England? "It is an ambitious plan, impossible plan," he admitted honestly. Even if the King was generous and placed William in the line of succession he would always fall behind any children produced by Jane Seymour.

Anne smiled, "Not exactly. It depends on Henry. If it is his wish, then he will make it happen."

"But the King will not likely set aside Jane Seymour as long as Edward lives," he countered, "Perhaps, when he calms down again, we may be able to convince him to place William in the line of succession but bastard children under the law will always fall behind the children of the Queen, in this case, Jane Seymour." He received a nasty glare from Anne when he called Jane Seymour Queen and Anne's children bastards. It was not a matter of what he believed but what English law now recognized.

"I don't want William to be just placed in the line of succession. I want him declared legitimate, to be a Prince as he rightly deserves to be," the Earl's eyes widened at Anne's suggestion, but Anne continued, "What if someone was to plant the idea in his head that it would be better for England to have two princes. I am told that Edward is a sickly boy; surely the King does not want a boy who will likely die quickly on the throne after him? A sickly boy would place the throne in jeopardy, if he dies people will argue who is to succeed him, if he lives, his illness will allow others to control him easily."

"Two Princes?" Thomas Boleyn repeated dumbly.

"Yes, two princes. He need not set aside Jane Seymour at all. Don't forget that I am _dead_. As long as Cranmer claims he made a mistake in declaring my previous marriage null and void, William and Elizabeth become legitimate. Henry married Jane after my supposed death, thus he could claim his marriage to the wrench valid as well. He gets to keep two legitimate princes. And by order of birth, William should be the Prince of Wales. That is as long as I stay _dead, _which all subjects in England know me to be_._"

"But you are alive, the King knows it," Thomas argued.

Anne laughed, "Oh he will eventually realize that it is to his interest to admit that I am _dead_ and stay _dead, _that is, once he calms down."

Thomas wasn't too sure about that, but he ignored it for the time being, "But you forget that your reputation is still not welcome in England," he pointed out. He had made many attempts to weaken the distaste many had for Anne, but Katherine of Aragon had been a very popular Queen.

Anne nodded, she remembered her coronation in England well, it was cold and chilly, "Yet people's opinions are easily swayed. I hear that the monarchy's prestige has fallen in England because of Henry's treatment of me. It has not made people comfortable knowing that I _died_ shortly after giving birth. All you need to do is push public opinion along that path. Put your mind to use and get rid of Cromwell. Let his crimes against me be known, his triumphed up charges of adultery will turn people's opinions against him. People will rally to William's side if they know that his mother has died innocent. They will spill Cromwell's blood, and pave the way for William."

Cromwell's fall would not be enough. It would be naïve of Anne to believe that by simply declaring her trial a fraud would be enough to sway the people's opinion of her. He had paid many to go around towns and spread goodwill rumors about the Queen Anne, but despite his efforts, the people still called her the 'The Whore' or the 'The Harlot'. They had felt that it was wrong of the King to kill her simply because he wanted to set her aside, but they would have cheered if Jane Seymour replaced her smoothly. Katherine of Aragon had left an impression on the people of England, and her death had many people speculating that Anne had poisoned her. Anne would likely never be popular in England, no matter what they did. "It is more difficult than you portray it to be," Thomas sighed. But perhaps with the mother dead, the people would not fault the children.

Anne scoffed, "No greatness is a simple task. You have always been ambitious, the idea of becoming the King's grandfather is no doubt most appealing to you," she tilted her head slightly, "But remember father, William is not like me, he cannot be simply thrown away when he is of no more use. Your future rests on him; there will be no more chances for you if anything happens to him."

"I would never hurt William!" Thomas replied indignantly, "I am his grandfather!" If anything, Anne's actions would likely hurt William more than he could ever do. If the plot to put William on the throne had been found out before William was declared the Prince of Wales, Anne would have essentially sent her own son and daughter onto the scaffold. Nevertheless Thomas did not voice his concerns. Anne had always been stubborn, if she had set her mind onto something it was near impossible to change it. He did not want a scene.

"I find little comfort in that," she replied emotionlessly.

"I saved you," he reminded her. It had been the one act that he had done for Anne that had not been propelled by ambition or greed. It was for those fond feelings he had of the little girl who loved to play hide-and-go-seek.

Anne nodded, "Yes, and I thank you for it. But why did you save me? Why me and not George?" she asked quietly, a memory danced across her mind, her heart clenched. This had been on her mind since her escape but no one had ever provided an explanation, "When I was in the tower, you came in for questioning. I saw you leaving from my window. I smiled at you, waving, because you were my family. I just wanted a nod, a smile, a wave, any form of acknowledgement that you loved me. Terror was the only thing that I had felt for days, and there you were, a familiar face. For a brief moment, I felt a sense of warmness, of family, I thought we were in this together, and we would get through this together. You just looked at me blankly and left without any indication that you even knew me," she had tears in her eyes by this point, "I was not a stranger. _I was your daughter_…but you only saw a tool to be used and disposed of." She remembered the first time she truly realized that she had only been a tool.

_She had just woken up from nearly dying from the sweating sickness. She had been so tired. She sighed contentedly as her brother ran into her room and lay down at the end of her bed playfully, "George," her voice reflected how she felt._

_Her father had run in after, grabbing her hands, "dear sweet god," he kissed her hands repeatedly, smiling at her. She had been so happy then. She had thought the father from her childhood was back, but his next words destroyed her dreams, "you know what you have done child? You have risen from the dead, now you can see the King again. It can be just like before." He had been happy that she lived so he could prosper with her rise, not because his daughter had lived._

"You knew I was going to die, but you could not even grant me that last bit of comfort. A simple smile at that time would have been more than enough, but you could not have been bothered with it. So I ask you, why did you save me?"

Anne's emotional speech left him in silence. He knew what his ambitions had cost him, but hearing it from Anne's view made his throat go dry. He had not been an emotional man for a long time, yet Anne's honest speech had revived some of those feelings that he had placed aside when he became a courtier. It was strange really, once upon a time, he had wanted to rise to the top for his children (or at least that was what he had convinced himself of), so that they could have a better life, a better match. Ironically, when he did rise to the top, his children had grown to hate him. His plans had cost George his life, they had forced Anne to become someone else's daughter, and Mary would not even speak to him. He was all alone in the world now. But he still felt the stirring of ambition. "Mary came to me," he told her quietly. He knew nothing he said now would change the past. It hurt to hear that his children hated him, but he was the one that made his own bed wasn't he?

Anne's eyes widened, Mary?

"_Sister," she had greeted her with a smile, Mary's stomach was swollen._

_She had to take a double take, "Mary."_

_Mary laughed, kissing her hand, "Your Majesty."_

"_You are with child! How did it happen? We knew nothing," she had been most surprised._

_Mary looked at both her and their father, "I'm married."_

"_Married?" she was just confused at this point, "So who is your husband?"_

_Mary smiled, "His name is Mister William Stafford."_

_The name was foreign to Anne, "I haven't heard of him. Is he at court?"_

"_He…" Mary stuttered uncomfortable briefly, "William is a man with little standing and no fortune. He is now a serving soldier in Calais."_

_There was a long pregnant pause. Anne took a seat as her father stood angrily beside Mary, a million thoughts running through her mind. She barely heard her father hiss at Mary, "Then you think him worthy to be the husband of the Queen of England's sister?"_

_Mary spoke as if it was obvious, "Yes, father, since I love him and…"_

_Their father cut her off, "Then you are very much mistaken." Mary stared, taken __a__back, "You married him in secret," their father continued, "and without asking our approval, he is such a nothing that we would never have given our permission." Anne rolled her eyes. She knew that Mary was rather simple minded, but this was foolish even for her. _

"_But father, if you were to meet him, you would see that he is a good, fine, and honest man," Mary argued._

_But their father had no ears for it, "Since you have acted brazenly and in spite of me, I shall cut off your allowance. You and your fine, honest young man can rot in hell as far as I am concerned." He walked away from her in anger._

_Mary was in tears by now, "Anne?" she had pleaded, "How easy do you think it was for me to find a proper husband, when I was called the great prostitute? Indeed I think myself fortunate to have found William and to be loved by him."_

"_You did not ask my permission," she told her. If only she had, she would have talked her out of it. Mary was the sister to the Queen, she would have gotten an excellent match instead. As the Queen of England, she was the head of the Boleyn family, and as such Mary should have asked her._

"_Do I have to ask you to fall in love? Mary asked._

"_Yes," their father hissed, "Now we are royalty, everything is different."_

_Mary was sobbing openly. The sight of her sister distress almost made her want to comfort her. It made her almost wish to tell Mary that she was forgiven. Mary looked to her, "Please" Anne looked away, "Please, sister." Mary made an attempt to approach her._

"_No," Anne stopped her, "You and your husband are banished from court." She had done what was expected of her from her father and court, but she could never forget the look of betrayal on Mary's face._

"Mary," Anne repeated to herself. She had banished Mary with nothing, and Mary would have surely suffered for William Stafford was a poor man. She had been cruel to her sister, yet Mary had been the one to argue with her father for her life. Anne felt like a fool. She had never regretted her actions so much. Mary…Mary had forgiven her even after Anne had betrayed her?

* * *

_**September 23**__**rd**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

Diane de Poitiers watched English court pack their luggage into the carriages with an emotionless gaze, "I must admit that I am surprised that it got this far."

Lord Anne de Montmorency took a sip of his wine, and swirled the contents in his goblet before speaking, "Kings are dangerous jealous men. They are used to getting their ways, and if they feel insulted they revert to the mentality of a child."

Diane turned from the window with one eyebrow raised, "My Lord, you best not let others hear such a statement. Insulting the crown is a dangerous act."

Montmorency grunted, "I only speak the truth, a fact that every courtier is well aware of."

Diane laughed, "Yes, but it is the truth that is never spoken," she left the window and poured herself a goblet of red wine. She swirled the thick red liquid before she took a small sip, the liquid staining her red lips a deeper shade. Her tongue quickly grazed over her lips, cleaning the remnants of the wine, "Why are you, sir, so displeased with the turn of events? I thought you did not favor an English alliance."

Montmorency scowled briefly, "I favored an imperial alliance over an English one. Yet we have nearly burnt the bridge with the imperial alliance. Do you really think that the Emperor would make an alliance with us now? After months of captivity and his son being held hostage? It would take years before this sour note will be dimmed. I had advised his Majesty to return the Emperor to the Empress as a peace gesture nearly a year ago before everything got out of hand, yet it was no use. The King had insisted an English alliance because that was what the Queen wanted. But they have nothing to show for it except make an enemy out of England as well."

Through his speech Diane stared at the swirling red liquid in her hands, "It was not all the Queen. The King wanted an Anglo-French alliance because he wanted to come out on top, to best the Emperor." She took a sip of the wine again, "The English King had insulted France. It is no secret that the Queen and I are not fond of each other, but even so, I was insulted by the actions of King Henry. He lacks tact, such barbaric actions. It is one thing to insult the Queen in private, to make the matter such a public spectacle and simultaneously insult France; no French courtier would have tolerated that."

Montmorency laughed, "This is coming from the woman who once said that their encounter would be more amusing than fireworks."

Diane smirked, "Could a woman not change her mind?"

Montmorency laughed again, "You hardly ever change your mind once it is made up, Madame."

Diane smiled, "When I said fireworks, I meant a spark here and there, not outright insult. I am hardly upset that the King of England had insulted Anne de Pisseleu, but I am offended that he insulted the Queen of France."

"So you are willing to acknowledge her as Queen now?" asked Montmorency.

Diane gave Montmorency a look, "I never said I didn't acknowledge her as Queen simply that I find it disagreeable that she was in such favor. You know how I hate to be outshined." She took another sip, "But enough of this tangent, what do you suppose will happen now?"

The humor left the room as both returned to discuss the more serious problem at hand, Montmorency sighed, "I don't know. The English King refused to sign the treaty and His Majesty is in no mood to humor him. We can only hope that the emperor does not make an alliance with the English. It would not be to France's advantage to have enemies on multiple fronts."

* * *

_**September 24**__**th**__**, 1538, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

Cromwell studied the parchment before him carefully. Things had been hectic in England in the past two years, so much that the matter of dissolving the monasteries, a plan he had formed years ago, had been put temporarily on hold. At first it had been because Anne Boleyn would not die quietly, then it was Queen Jane's marriage, the plague, the King's unpredictable temper, followed by the King's bastard children coming to court. That was only internally. Outside relations had been a nightmare. He had worked day and night in order to secure an alliance with France after the Holy Roman Emperor was captured by the French, but now all of his efforts finally paid off. The King was in France negotiating the treaty; he only prayed that everything would go well. It was infamous that the Kings of England and France had gotten into a wrestling match during Mary's betrothal to the late Dauphin, but they had both matured since then.

Court was finally quiet and he was finally able to readdress old matters. He studied the list of monasteries to be dissolved carefully, making notes every once in a while. It would take some time, but if everything went according to plan, he would have successfully dissolved them within two years. He felt rather content. The King trusted him, enough that he left him and the Duke of Norfolk in charge while he was in France. He was favored greatly as the King relied on him for everything. He was where he deserved to be and he felt rather at ease. He truly had little opposition since Anne Boleyn died and her fraction fell from power.

* * *

_**September 25**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

Anne watched the English party's departure from an upper window. No one was surprised that the Queen of France had not been present for the English departure. In fact it was common knowledge that the King had ordered for the Queen's absence along with Guards to protect Her Majesty.

Anne had expected Francis's attitude to change after she had not responded to his speech, but he made no outward appearance that he even made the speech. His emotional words had occurred when they had been alone, thus no one outside the two of them would ever know if they never spoke of it and it was this approach that Francis had taken. He said nothing at all and acted as if it never happened. At first it made Anne rather uneasy, but she nevertheless went along with it. If he did not wish to revisit the subject, then she would respect his wishes. Besides, she did not want to address the issue in the first place.

She could see that the tension between the two Kings had not decreased over the days. They acted stiffly toward each other in what was a proper farewell. Both were cold, barely acknowledging the other as the English King finally mounted his horse and Jane entered the carriage.

She watched the English party getting farther and farther away until they were but a dot in the horizon. She wondered what the future held in England. Would she really be able to get her way? Or will her actions inadvertently bring about the downfall of her family in England?

"You wished to see me, Your Majesty?" Adrien de Pisseleu's voice took Anne out of her thoughts.

She turned to him, "Have you sent the letter?" She had to give them a warning before the storm hit.

Adrien nodded, "I sent the letter the very day your majesty ordered for it."

Anne smiled as she felt some of the nervousness drop away from her stomach. No, the letter would do nothing, but it would at least be a warning, a message for them to be prepared for what was coming. It was all she could do for now.

* * *

_**September 30**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Despite the alliance falling apart with England, we cannot just leave things alone as it is. If England makes an alliance with the Emperor it would be to France's great disadvantage," Montmorency told the King.

"Then what do you suggest?" asked Francis coolly, despite the time that had passed since the incident, everyone at court had soon learned to never mention the event in the presence of the royal family, and that discussions of the Queen could very well lead to imprisonment. These limitations, however, only served to confirm the suspicions for those who suspected the Queen's past. But no one said anything out loud. They were true courtiers. They understood that the Queen remained in favor with the King despite everything, and to go against her now would be political suicide. They would much rather sit on the information for future use.

"Perhaps, we should still send an ambassador to England. If not for the alliance, at least he could attempt to sabotage any plans of alliance between King Henry and the Emperor, while we make new alliances," Brosse suggested. It was a suggestion that the Queen had wanted him to make. The Queen wanted her uncle in England.

Francis nodded, "Very well." It was somewhat of a plan even though if the King of England set his mind on making an alliance with Spain, it would be impossible to stop him. "What allies do you suggest?"

Brosse replied immediately as it was a matter he had thought of a great deal recently, "Perhaps, an alliance between France and Poland. Poland is directly east of the Holy Roman Empire while France is directly west of it. If a military alliance could be established, we can split the empire into two."

Francis nodded and turned to Montmorency, "And you agree?"

Montmorency shook his head. An alliance with Poland was an option but he did not like the fact that it had been suggested by Brosse, instead, he gave another option, "Alliances with the German states under the Emperor would be better. The Holy Roman Empire is vast in their territories, but Charles V hardly rules over each of these with an iron hand. Many of the German states are dissatisfied with the Emperor and rule autonomously. If we make an alliance with them, we could dissolve the Emperor's territory from the inside."

"But dissolving the Empire would only serve to weaken the Emperor's power and financial backing. He is still the King of Spain with many allies of his own. The German states have long been part of the Holy Roman Empire, what is to say that one of them would not wish to become the new emperor. They do not have a united front, and even if we make alliances with most of them, how can we satisfy each of their needs when they have conflicted interests. Not to mention, even if everything goes according to plan, we stand to gain nothing for freeing the German states from the Emperor. On the other hand, an alliance with Poland, we can increase our own territories by absorbing the German states, making a new French Empire," Brosse countered.

"But what is to say that our military strength is strong enough to stand against the Empire?" asked Montmorency, "France has been increasing our military strength since the battle of Paris. Your Majesty has granted a great deal of money for the soldiers to ensure better weapons and training, but we cannot forget that these men that have enlisted were not born soldiers. They had trained for less than a year, do you, My Lord, honestly believe they stand a chance?"

"And you, my lord, have forgotten that the battle of Paris was won by many that had almost no experience at all. Training is a part of it, but courage, and will make an even bigger part," retorted Admiral de Chabot condescendingly.

Before Montmorency could respond bitingly though, the King cut him off, "Enough, I will think on your advices." The temper in the room was getting high, and before Francis made up his own mind, he did not need his advisors to be at each other's throats.

* * *

_**October 2**__**nd**__**, 1538, English Fleet, Ocean**_

Jane did not like the ship as it made her feel quite nauseous. Yet despite the damper that the ship placed on her mood, she had thought the trip to be rather rewarding. Despite how it had ended with France, Jane could not help but feel happy that her husband seemed to have found a renewed liking of her.

Perhaps it was because of the sight of the Harlot and the remainder of who she was that he suddenly saw the difference between the two women that had attracted him to Jane in the first place. The King had become more attentive and warmer towards her again. It was almost like the past when he had courted her. His actions made Jane smile, but despite her much jollier mood she did wonder if the King's attention would stay even after they returned to England and the incident with the Harlot was placed in the past once again.

Then again…what if it wasn't going to be in the past? What if the King wanted to revisit the issue? At their departure from France, the King had caught sight of Thomas Boleyn and had screamed for the Earl to make himself scarce. He had ordered him under house arrest until their arrival in England, but no mention of what awaited the man in the future. Thomas, Jane's brother, optimistically believed that the King would order the execution of the man, but Edward had pointed out that despite the King's anger, once he arrived back in England, the King would be reminded that the Harlot had given him two children despite her faults. It was a matter of how much the King valued the Lady Elizabeth and the Duke of Somerset and Pembroke. Or perhaps his anger would transfer to them with their mother untouchable for now. No one knew what the King planned to do. Would he allow the harlot to remain the Queen of France? Was there even anything he could do about the woman's new position short of seizing the throne of France? These thoughts made Jane uneasy but she was happy for now and basked in her husband's affection.

* * *

_**October 10th, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

Lord Brosse had reported dutifully that the King now expressed an interest in an alliance with either Poland or the German states. Upon learning of the fact, she had questioned the man extensively about both possibilities. Since that conversation, she had taken to reading and questioning close advisors about the monarchies east of the German states. Her decision to educate herself had been simple. If she was to push France to be the power of Europe she could not just keep herself short sighted. She had to understand the politics of Europe and to understand them; first she needed to understand the monarchies. A well read Queen consort was what Francis needed, and to keep herself useful Anne studied.

With the English alliance failing apart, the most worrisome event would be an alliance between the Emperor and Henry. The Habsburg family was a powerful ally for the Emperor and it would do France a great deal of good if they limited the spread of the family. Not to mention, the matter of Margaret's marriage was still a matter of discussion. What she had in mind would kill two birds with one stone.

The Polish Kingdom had been united with the Grand Duchy of Lithuania for quite some time, making the Polish Empire quite large. The Habsburg family was in control of a part of Hungary. An alliance had been formed between the two Kingdoms, in which Elizabeth of Austria was expected to marry the crown Prince of Poland, Sigismund II Augustus. Sigismund was born in 1520, and of marriage age now at the age of eighteen, while Elizabeth was born in 1526, only twelve years old. Margaret however, was only three years Sigismund's junior and marriage could take place now.

Elizabeth was the daughter of Ferdinand, the younger brother of Charles V. Ferdinand was a powerful man, and a strong candidate to be the next Holy Roman Emperor if he survived his brother. He ruled the hereditary Habsburg lands in his brother's stead. Already he was the King of Bohemia, Croatia, Dalmatia, Slavonia, and he had claim to the Hungarian throne and ruled as the Royal Hungary King. Ferdinand declared himself the King of Hungary and was supported by a fraction of the nobles against John Zapolya, the other claimant to the throne, King of Eastern Hungary, who was to marry Sigismund's older sister.

Elizabeth and Sigismund's marriage had been planned since their births, but it was not without opposition. Elizabeth was the granddaughter of Vladislas II of Hungary who was also the uncle of Sigismund. A papal dispensation had been secured from Pope Clement VII in order for the marriage to take place. But Clement was dead and it was Pope Paul III in power now. If both France and Poland asked for the dispensation to be revoked, it would not be impossible to do, especially with France rising and the Emperor taking a rather large loss. Not to mention the Pope was not entirely happy with the Emperor as he kept interfering in his Holy affairs, limiting the Pope's powers. He would likely jump at the chance to strike at the Emperor without much repercussion.

Poland itself was not fond of the Holy Roman Empire either. Queen Bona Sforza of Poland and the Grand Duchess of Lithuania, the mother of Sigismund, was known to hate the Habsburgs from what Anne had heard from other courtiers. It was also suggested the Queen was in favor of a French alliance. The Queen had strong political power in Poland, swaying her to their cause would be very beneficial. This was perhaps the best time for France to make an advantageous match for Margaret.

This course of action would also allow Poland to champion only John Zapolya with the marriage of Princess Isabella Jagiellon and John. John Zapolya had led a strong political life in Hungary long before Ferdinand's claim to the throne, thus most of the nobles supported him. He was also regarded as a friend of Suleiman the Magnificent of the Ottoman Empire. Bona Sforza was also known to have regular correspondence with the Sultan's wife, Roxlena. This marriage between France and Poland and Lithuania would stretch France's alliance far past its current state. It was a chance to hinder the Emperor in any actions against France if he was to worry about what was behind him.

An alliance with the Ottoman Empire was something playing on Anne's mind for some time. Yet two great obstacles stood in the way. The Ottoman Empire was full of heretics, an open alliance with them, would turn France into an open enemy against all of Christendom of Europe, giving the Emperor another reason to invade France. However, an alliance with them was also beneficial as they were they were the ones who had the power to truly stand against the Holy Roman Emperor. Yet it was also this power that was worrying. Machiavelli had once stated that it was crucial that a state did not enter into an alliance with another stronger than themselves, because the power could easily turn against them. He had given this as the reason of how France had lost its power in Italy to Spain.

This was a fact that Anne regarded as the truth. France was not ready for an Ottoman alliance, not until France had truly become a contender against the Holy Roman Empire by itself. Thus an alliance with Poland would be the very first step. Yet an Ottoman alliance was likely to be quick on the horizon. From what she had learned, an alliance between the two had been of intense discussion in 1536, before Francis had rejected the idea based on religious differences. He was under attack from the Emperor and had not wished to give him a good reason to invade France. The invasion occurred nevertheless, such that Francis would likely have lesser objections now.

So it was with this thought in mind that Anne explained her opinion when Francis asked her at supper. "A marriage between Margaret and Sigismund II Augustus? That would strengthen the alliance that is to be sure," the King pondered the suggestion.

"France only has one princess, if our goal is the Holy Roman Empire, marrying Margaret to Prince Phillip would be rather pointless. Besides Phillip is still years from the marriage age," Anne reaffirmed her opinion.

Francis nodded.

Things between him and Anne had been awkward after his speech, but he had never acknowledged the incident afterwards. She had gone along with him, pretending that nothing had happened. It was frustrating and a relief to Francis. He was frustrated because he wanted her to acknowledge him and his feelings, but it was also a relief because she had made no move to remind him of his failed declaration of love. Things eventually returned back to normal, helped greatly by the King Henry's departure. Once everything calmed, Francis began thinking, perhaps Anne was not ready to love again, her heart too injured to love now. Perhaps if he truly loved her he would be willing to wait for her heart patiently, but it was hard to keep that optimism when Anne's heart seemed to give no indication toward the healing path.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

Please note, the Franco-Ottoman alliance was established in 1536 in history, but you will have noticed that this is not the case in this story. They had backed out before everything was signed.

Also about the ring to be given to Elizabeth, it is called the "_Chequers ring" __(you can Google image it) just came across it, and could not help put it into the story in my way. _

Henry's leg injury is not as severe as it was in history. Here it only causes him pain on some days, and no pus or drainage necessary. The reason is that otherwise he can't keep up with Francis or Anne. This is only the first time that the two monarchs will clash. Think of this as appetizer if you will. Next time they meet, there will be a change in dynamic. I do plan on several interactions, so fear not if you didn't get enough of fireworks, after all, Henry hasn't exactly start to fight for Anne yet.

_As for the **status of the story**, like I mentioned in the prologue, I will have the status in my profile. So at the very least, you guys know where I am at, whether a chapter is half written or with my beta._

_**Next chapter:**__ Confrontation with the dauphin, Mary's (the King's daughter) thoughts (thought we should hear from her), Henry's anger continued back in England, alliances and more plots…_

_**Please review!** A random comment in them could always spark some inspiration. Also if something is wrong, please feel free to offer constructive criticism. _

_Until next time,_

_Cruelangel_


	11. Chapter 10: Alliances

**Title: Nemesis**

**Author: **Cruelangel101

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing...Not the characters, not the show, and certainly not the production company…can anyone own history?

**Detailed Summary:** Starting from the scene where Anne watched her brother's execution, Anne finds herself pregnant with the King's child. They thought she was saved, but the King still enraged and determined to marry Jane Seymour, chose to believe the child was the offspring of one of the executed man. Anne's execution was determined to proceed after the birth of her child. A plot from an unexpected family member, rescued her from the tower and in the most bizarre chain of events she ended up as the Queen of France. All the while her rival Jane Seymour rises to the position of Queen of England. Her heart cold from betrayal and filled with hopes for revenge, what would the future hold? Can new warmth melt her iced heart or will past spark ignite once more? This time when two men battle for her heart, the consequence is war. (Queen of France and son after the tower ideas are hardly new to fanfic, but I would like take a new spin on it.)

**Pairings:** Anne/Francis I and Anne/Henry VIII (Anne-past/left over feelings; Henry-one sided)

**AN:** I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed and/or favorite and/or alerted this story. The support keeps the story going!

Sorry for the long delay. My muse went on vacation, then I went on vacation and finally my motivation went on vacation. To make it up to you guys, this is the longest chapter I have written so far.

Big thanks to my Beta**, Audriel** who gave such a quick feedback. I just can't imagine editing through this over and over…it's so long. Also thank you to those who offered to help me in my little writing fail.

**Nemesis…the Greek goddess of revenge…**

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Alliances**

_In a world of power plays, one can never stand alone. In the end, the choice of who is the biggest winner depends greatly on what alliances one makes. _

_**October 13th, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Your Majesty," the Dauphin bowed to Anne as the two of them accidentally met each other in the gardens.

Anne nodded in response, "Your Highness." They had not had much interaction with each other as the Dauphin was often busy learning state affairs from the King. Their meeting currently appeared to be accidental, but Anne would not put it past the young boy to have arranged the meeting. The Dauphin was young, placed into a role he had not been raised to do. Many courtiers did not favor him as he was what they described as "frigid", lacking the charisma that his father and even his little brother had. Yet he was not a stupid boy. He might be naive at times, placing a little too much trust in his advisors, but he was learning. Anne had no doubt he would one day become a powerful King, one who would be able to control the courtiers, perhaps even better than Francis. Underneath the inexperience and naivety, rested a dangerous animal, he would one day become a ruthless ruler, a necessary ruthless ruler, that would be the only way that the Monarchy could keep their hold over the nobility. This was the precise reason that Francis refused to hear from the nobility that wished for the King to set the Dauphin aside. There was a natural strength in the Dauphin's character.

Anne had not participated nor understood French politics when she had been a lady in waiting to Queen Claude, but it had not taken her long to realize that the French Court was quite different from the English. In England, the King became the most powerful when he broke away from Rome. The nobility flocked to court and did their best to amuse the King. In France, the nobility was a force to be reckoned with. Court life and politics often turned into a balance of interests between the nobility and the King. Francis was a King who made absolute Monarchism his goal, but he was afraid to pay the price. He desired the praises others gave him; he would never let public ruthlessness taint his image. Henri was a different matter. He was less sly than his father. He did what he believed in no matter what others thought. He would increase the crown's power, especially after more experience, Anne could see that.

He had his strengths, but also his weaknesses. Diane de Poitiers had too much influence over him. It is always frowned upon for anyone to have too much influence on the crown. Poitiers, especially, was a dangerous weakness as she had too much personal interest. She was a beautiful woman, and she lived for the attention at court. She loved power as well. Those who hindered her glory and awakened her jealousy would no doubt find themselves in deep waters when Henri became King. She was the reason why it was crucial for Anne to befriend the Dauphin, not only for her future but for little Francois's future as well.

"Pardon Madame, may I speak frankly to you?" asked the Dauphin.

Anne nodded. With a wave of her hand, her ladies all obediently walked to the other side of the garden, out of hearing range but not out of eyesight, "What is it?" Anne was curious as to what made the Dauphin approach her suddenly.

The Dauphin spoke calmly and seriously, "I heard that Your Majesty had supported the suggestion of a Polish alliance? You had even suggested that Margaret should be married to the Crown Prince of Poland."

Anne nodded again, "Yes, your father had been searching for a match worthy of Margaret's status; I believe that Sigismund II Augustus is a good choice."

"Even over the Prince Phillip of Spain?" asked the Dauphin.

Anne smiled, "Well that is a matter of opinion," she responded honestly, "Securing a marriage between Margaret and Phillip would perhaps be useful, but as far as I can see with the English alliance falling apart, we should secure an ally against the Holy Roman Empire."

"What of the English alliance then?" asked the Dauphin.

"It is to be pursued still as we don't want an enemy in our backyard. It would be in France's best interest to clear our surroundings before we make further pursuits," Anne responded.

"France's best interest?" The Dauphin repeated, "I must ask the question Madame, forgive me for my bluntness. Do you have no interest in the well being of England? Would you be willing to weaken England for the sake of France?" This had been a question on his mind since he had known the Queen's past identity. This was the true reason why he had approached his father in the first place. It had been partially due to the suggestion of Diane, but also because he could not be sure where the Queen's loyalties truly lay.

She had children in England, what is to say that she won't champion their interests over that of France? Having someone with dual alliances holding much political power, would do little good for France. Many times, the consort of a King was a foreign princess who had allegiance to her native country. There would be only two results. The first they held no power when the alliance between their native home was broken. Or in the second case, they embraced their new home and protected their children's thrones at all costs. But that was the precise problem here. Anne Boleyn's children were in England, would the Queen not want them on the English throne if at all possible? If she somehow accomplished that, would she not want to protect England from France? There rested a conflict of interest.

He knew what his father had thought about his approach then. The King had thought him idiotic, unable to see the politics of Court. Yes, France's political stability would weaken if her identity was exposed, but he had not the present in his thoughts then, but the future. France needed a Queen who was French, who was dedicated to France only. He had feared of her influence on his father should she be too Pro-English as it was her motherland, despite Anne Boleyn's misfortune there.

His father and the Queen both also thought him too easily influenced by his advisors, especially his lover. That was true on some level, but he was not as inexperienced as they believed. He acted on advice only when he believed in it. It was true he was indulgent of Diane. Why should he not be if she was his greatest love? She was the only woman that he had ever loved. If it did not hurt France, he saw no reason to deny her requests. His treatment of Diane was really no different from his father's treatment of the Queen. Everyone at court could see clearly how his father protected the Queen and indulged her every request. It was a bit hypocritical of them to judge him for such things, but then again, people usually don't view things the same when they are involved in the situation.

People also only see things they wished to believe in. His father and Queen Anne saw in him a young boy, and thus they thought him easily manipulated. The court saw a less fun future ruler, so they wanted his brother instead. They saw a weak boy, in the shadows of his father. But he was not what he appeared to be. Nevertheless, he did nothing to dissuade the court's perception of him. The weaker they thought him to be, the less likely they would actually spend time and energy to go against him, to champion his brother. The only person that truly mattered was his father's opinion, for unless the King consented, there was nothing they could do. He was the oldest child, and by law and right, the successor of the French throne.

Anne blinked at the question. She had not expected that from the young boy. If it came down to a choice between England and France's survival which would she chose? She would like to say France, but she couldn't forget that William and Elizabeth still resided in England. "I would always have France's best interest at heart, Your Highness. I am the Queen of France." She told the Dauphin outwardly despite her mental confusion.

"You would support France even if we seized the throne from the English King and placed our own on the throne? Even if we had to rid of his children for the sake of a new French Empire? It is not uncommon for a conquering party to kill the remaining heirs of a past King to avoid claims of pretenders later in time," asked Henri. He pressed her because he did not believe her. She was a mother as well as a Queen. He did not know what made him approach her now; perhaps it was because that she seemed to be furthering France's interests. He wanted to know if she could really deliver what she had started or would she pull France's leg when it came down to crucial moments. She seemed genuinely in love with France, but he had to be sure. He wanted to test out just how far her alliances to both countries ran.

If France seized the throne from Henry and rid him of his children…Anne truly didn't know what she would do. She wanted the English throne for William. She wanted him to be a strong King, but that was a conflict of interest. Perhaps not now, but eventually it would be. England would not wish for its neighbor to be so strong. The stronger France becomes, the weaker England would appear to be. It was stupid really why she didn't consider this before. Yet if France was not strong, she could not help William to the throne. She could not be the outside support and influence. It was a double edged sword. But perhaps it was worry for nothing. The English throne was not of great interest when the Holy Roman Empire was a threat next door. The Emperor was waiting for retribution.

Anne sighed, "You have my promise, that I will try my best to look after France's best interest."

The Dauphin knew that was the only answer that he would receive that day, but strangely enough it was alright for now because it had been an honest answer. He didn't know if she would chose France over England when it came down to the last moment, but for now she was helping. This fact was enough for him to leave things as they were. He would regard her as an enemy if a day came when she championed England's interest over that of France. Besides, for now, there was no point in upsetting his father. He was King, and had great power over the succession. It would simply not do to lose his favor over a woman and let little Charles reap all the rewards.

* * *

_**October 15**__**th**__**, 1538, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

Court life had dulled to nothingness once the King and Queen left for England. Life sprung back quickly when Cromwell and the Duke of Norfolk received a letter stating that the King was to return early from France. The announcement had left many to speculate on what had transpired in France as the tone seemed to suggest the treaty had not gone according to plan.

Actual facts about the King's trip had not been released as the palace busied itself in preparation for the King's return. But the truly intriguing thing was the letter that rested in his hand now. He had found it sitting on his desk. Just like before it had no personal seal just red wax. When he had opened it, it was only signed with a letter A, but he knew who it was. What surprised him though, was that the letter detailed that the King of England had stopped negotiations with France, and would return to England. She had asked him to prepare the children as the King would likely target them in anger. How did she know so much? Better yet how did she get the letter into the palace? As far as he could see, she had no more allies left save for perhaps Cranmer and her father. Thomas Boleyn accompanied the King to France, so that only left Cranmer as a possibility. Had she contacted the man and secured his alliance as well when she had sent him the first letter?

Everything was so confusing and strange now. He didn't quite like the feelings of being controlled by an invisible hand. He felt like the puppet and that she the puppet master, but he owed it to her didn't he? He had voted her guilty against his conscience, this was his chance for redemption. If he, Henry Percy, had to be a puppet, so be it.

* * *

_**October 16**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Who is that?" Queen Anne asked Admiral Phillipe de Chabot after they passed a new man at court. He had appeared to be from a foreign court for he was not dressed in the French fashion.

The Admiral turned his head immediately to follow the Queen's gaze, he recognized the man "Lord Robert Maxwell, High lord admiral and a member of the council of Regency from the Kingdom of Scotland."

Anne blinked in slight surprise, "Scotland? What brings him to France?"

"I would imagine it is to negotiate a marriage for King James V of Scotland," Brosse replied immediately, "The King's advisors have all been meeting lately to discuss the matter."

Anne nodded. She did seem to recall Francis mentioning a renewed interest in an alliance with Scotland recently. Scotland and France had created an alliance before with the marriage of Princess Madeleine and James V, but the poor princess had passed away only months after her wedding. A new marriage had been of discussion, but with the Emperor sacking Paris briefly, everything had been put on hold. Then after the battle of Paris, there had been interest in pursuing an English alliance instead, making situation with Scotland awkward and estranged, but with the English alliance falling apart, Scotland became a much more favored ally. "Have the council decided on a candidate? Is it Margaret?"

While Princess Margaret was the sister of Queen Madeleine of Scotland, a papal dispensation could always be obtained. It was not unheard of for the widow of a sibling to marry the next sister simply because it held the alliance intact. Not to mention Margaret was of marriage age. It would be a good match, but Francis had already sent special ambassadors to Poland to negotiate a marriage instead.

Admiral Chabot shook his head, "It seems that the King is more welcome to the idea of a Polish marriage for the Princess Margaret. The most likely candidate currently is Mary of Guise. She is the widow of Louis II, Duke of Longueville." The House of Guise was a prominent and powerful family that played a major role in French politics.

Anne had heard of the House of Guise, but she knew little of the woman in question, "Tell me more about her," she commanded. She had long since learned that knowledge was power.

Chabot nodded, "Mary of Guise is the eldest daughter of Claude of Lorraine, the Duke of Guise and Antoinette de Bourbon. I believe, she became the Duchess of Longueville in 1534 upon her marriage to Louis II, Duke of Longueville. They have one son born in 1535 and her husband passed away in 1537."

"And what does the lady say on this proposal?" asked the Queen in curiosity. In truth, if the marriage was decided upon by Francis and her father, the woman really had little choice but to accept, yet if the bride was willing, everything would go smoother.

"Lady Mary has not made a formal acknowledgement of the proposal, but it is said that the Lady is against such a marriage because it is so soon after her husband's death and she does not wish to leave her son behind," the Admiral replied evenly.

Anne nodded, the Admiral's statement made perfect sense, no mother would wish to leave their child behind, but women were used to make dynastic alliances. Without a Princess of France available, as the daughter of a high noble, Mary of Guise had a duty to France. Circumstances surrounding royal marriages were often not ideal, but it was just a matter of life.

Queen Anne turned to her chief lady in waiting with a smile, "It is my pleasure to invite Lady Mary of Guise to Court."

* * *

_**October 31**__**st**__**, 1538, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

The King had a temper. This was not something of great surprise. He had returned to the palace only hours prior, and already for those who have not accompanied the King to France a change in the King was sensed. They all knew the King was furious from his trip to France. They, however, did not know what exactly had transpired in France. His own spies had told him the events in France and it had shocked him to the core for he was not one to believe in coincidences.

The body they had found had not been recognizable. Given the size of the fire and the condition of the chamber afterwards, it had been safe to assume that the body would be nothing but a charred piece of corpus and that was exactly what they had found. There was no way to identify the face, but Anne Boleyn had been the only one in the room at the time of the fire. The jewelry found on the body had been hers as well, so they had declared her dead. The King had wanted to move on then, he had been in a rush to marry the Queen Jane after having to wait for months. They had to rush the procedures then and now it came back to haunt them all.

Cromwell watched in silence as the King strode back and forth in front of him, occasionally muttering to himself in harsh tones. The idea of the French alliance completely falling apart in a matter of a few days bothered him greatly. He had thought nothing would go wrong from the visit. How was he supposed to know that the woman would come back and ruin everything. "I want Thomas Boleyn placed on the executioner's block," the King's voice drew Master Cromwell out of his thoughts.

He blinked, "On the executioner's block? What would Your Majesty wish to charge him with?" At times, dealing with the temperamental King, was like dealing with a child. Everything must be broken down and explained in detail. That was not to say that the King was not skillful at ruling the country, but merely there were times when his temper got the best of him.

King Henry furrowed his brow in confusion or perhaps it was surprise, "For Treason of course. He helped a prisoner of the tower escape. Surely he can't get away with that. The Witch is alive. Have you not been listening to a word I have been saying?" his voice rose with each word.

Years of experience at Court and dealing with the King made Master Cromwell quite an expert at the task. The King's apparent anger did nothing to phase him, "Forgive me Your Majesty, but your most humble servant merely thought that Your Majesty would not wish to make the Witch's current status known. It would be hard to believe for the English subjects. Your Majesty married the Queen Jane under the assumption that the Witch was dead. If she is suddenly proclaimed alive, there will be some who will question the validity of Her Majesty's throne and consequently the validity of Prince Edward's birth," then seeing the expression on the King's face, he quickly added, "No matter how wrong those assumptions may be, it is a risk. Queen Jane was never crowned officially and Prince Edward has not been declared the Prince of Wales officially either."

The King frowned, "Then make arrangements for those ceremonies."

Cromwell nodded, "With the most urgency, Your Majesty," he bowed, "But if Your Majesty allows, may I suggest that Your Majesty merely send Thomas Boleyn to the tower to reflect on his wrongdoings for an indefinite amount of time. At least until another charge could be properly brought against him." He paused briefly before making his next suggestion. The King may be angry, but he was still unsure how he would handle this, "If the Earl was plotting to use the Duke of Pembroke and Somerset against the rightful heir of the throne…"

The King turned sharply, "No, find something else."

Cromwell nodded. It was as he expected. No matter what the King was feeling, he was not likely to place his own son up for treason, after all, as long as the boy lived, he was a living proof of his father's fertility. Seeing how few living children the King had, he was not likely to harm any of them physically unless he absolutely had to. Condemning Thomas Boleyn had many other ways. "Very well, I shall dispatch guards to take him to the tower as a conspirator against the crown. No trial date will be set."

The King nodded in approval. Despite getting his way, he did not appear to be in much better mood.

* * *

_**November 1**__**st**__**, 1538, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"Your Majesty," Mary spoke politely as she curtsied to the Queen of England, Jane Seymour.

Jane smiled warmly to the girl, "Mary, please take a seat." The Queen motioned for the seat next to her.

Mary obeyed quietly. The court was aflame with gossip about the French trip, some mild others wild. Some said the Kings could not come to an agreement over the treaty and thus the English party left. The wilder rumors said that the two Kings got into a fight over a woman and the alliance was thus broken. Mary was much more inclined to believe the first rumor as it was more plausible. She could hardly see her father and the King of France fighting over one woman. What kind of woman would incite the passions of two Kings to that point?

Queen Jane held out her hands for Mary to take, "How do you do? Was England pleasant while we were gone?" The ladies in waiting quickly brought tea and some sweat meats.

Mary nodded, "Yes, it was very quiet." She paused briefly to consider whether it would be proper to pry into the subject of the rumors, but eventually she decided upon the question. It was better to know the truth than be influenced by groundless rumors, "Your Majesty, there are much whispers at Court about the happenings of France."

Queen Jane nodded. It was no surprise that Court gossip had exploded upon the King's return. His terrible moods only added to the fire. Jane did not respond to the Lady Mary verbally immediately, instead she dismissed her ladies with a wave of her hand. She wanted to reveal to Mary the identity of the French Queen, because the poor girl had a right to know. Jane could not protect the young girl from everything. The ugly truth will eventually come to light, and it was far better to warn and prepare Mary. The Harlot had been cruel to the girl, forcing her to serve as a lady in waiting to her half sister. Imagine a Princess serving as a lady in waiting to a bastard!

Once the room was cleared, leaving only Jane and Mary, the Queen began to speak again, "You will have heard about the fallout between his Majesty and King Francis?"

Mary nodded. It was no court secret that the two Kings had quarreled. Most accounts of the event even went as far as suggesting that the two Kings had fought physically.

"They fought because of the Mistress Anne Boleyn, Marquess of Pembroke," Queen Jane whispered.

Mary blinked in confusion. Why would two Kings fight over a dead harlot? But The Queen's next words caught her breath, "She is alive. We all saw it with our own eyes. His Majesty did not want to believe it at first, but he came to accept it toward the end of our stay. He attempted to bring her to justice, but the French King Francis protected her."

"Why? Why would the French be willing to harbor an English fugitive who had been found guilty of High Treason? They have nothing to gain from this? She is a talented liar, I am sure, but surely the French would not doubt His Majesty's words?" Mary felt herself speaking quickly.

Jane shook her head, "I don't know if the French know, but she is the Queen of France. I don't know how she accomplished it but it is clear to everyone that King Francis loves her. He protected her."

"Queen…" Mary repeated. The word Queen being associated with the Harlot made Mary feel sick. That woman did not deserve to be called Queen. She was a mere English subject. How could she be fit to be the Queen of France? "How?"

Jane shook her head again, "I don't know. I heard from my brothers that she is using a different name, Anne de Pisseleu. She even has a new family background, a father and uncles. She is very popular in France because she apparently saved the King after Paris was seized by the Emperor."

"Is it witchcraft? His Majesty was enthralled by the Harlot because of witchcraft. Has she drawn in the King of France using the devil's work?" Mary spoke harshly, angrily, "It must be witchcraft."

Jane didn't answer. Her husband had announced that the Harlot was a witch. As a wife, it was her duty to believe him, but…she dared not venture down that path of thought.

"How did she escape?" asked Mary. She already knew it must have had something to do with Thomas Boleyn.

Jane shook her head once again, "I don't know. His Majesty has placed Sir Thomas Boleyn in the tower, but there have been no words on how he will proceed in the matter. Master Cromwell has offered no explanation, as if it was the King's wish to simply leave him there."

Mary appeared shocked, "Surely, His Majesty is not going to forgive him? He has committed treason!"

"I pray not," Queen Jane responded softly, but she could not keep the doubt out of her voice. While she understood how a father would wish to save his own daughter, it was still a crime. He could have appealed the court's decision to the King or gone about saving his daughter in a legal way, but he had chosen not to. Yet the King had not acted against the man. Did he indeed wish to forgive him?

Mary frowned at the Queen's answer.

* * *

_**November 3**__**rd**__**, 1538, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

Perhaps it was sheer bad luck or perhaps it was fate. Lord Percy had successfully reminded the children's caretakers to keep them out of the King's sight. It had seemed to work in the beginning as the King had much more matters on his mind or wished to avoid the children himself. Yet they did come to meet eventually, something Percy knew would happen.

The King's eyes were unreadable as he glanced down on his children. Lord William as he was commonly referred to as the King had not granted a last name was nearly two years old. His appearance was very much similar to the King except he had his mother's dark hair and eyes. Yet that pair of eyes only resembled his mother in color but not spirit. It was the Lady Elizabeth who truly resembled her mother in the spark that made Anne's eyes like hooks for the soul, in her general mannerism, and in her very air. She was as charismatic as her mother, a true charmer.

Lady Elizabeth curtsied to her father with grace that escaped the usual five year olds, keeping her eyes on him, a small smile on the corner of her lips. Under normal circumstance it would be rather endearing, but Percy almost cringed now. It was so very Anne and the King's sudden flare of temper reflected the fact that he noticed as well. This change seemed to shake the young girl temporarily, but she recovered quickly.

Little William, being too young to see the tension in the chamber that his sister even could not help notice despite her age gave the King a rather toothy grin, "Papa". The instant the words left his mouth, the King's expression softened.

"William," he called to his young son who walked to him with a smile and giggled as his father picked him up, "How would you like to join your brother, the Prince of Wales, at Hatfield?" The question was rather pointless as the almost two year old could not really give an informed answer, not that it would make any difference.

Percy almost breathed a sigh of relief. Hatfield was a good place. It was the resident of the Prince and a place the King visited often, meaning the Duke will remain in good favor with his father and not forgotten. At the moment, Percy certainly felt quite glad that the letter came asking him to teach the young boy the word, "Papa" to the King's portraits. Anne had hoped that a father's pride in hearing "Papa" the first time from his son would spare the siblings of any negativity from the King.

The King turned back to his silent daughter again. Regarding her carefully, almost as if he wanted to reach out to her, to swing her up in his arms like her brother. Then he retracted the arm that never really went out, turning to the Lady Elizabeth's Governess, the Lady Katherine Champernowne, "You will take Lady Elizabeth to Woodstock Manor."

The command took everyone by surprise as all thought the siblings would stay together, but that was not to be. They did not understand what the young girl had done to warrant the separation. Woodstock Manor was essentially exile; the King would never visit there. However, no one questioned the command, the King has been known to be short tempered of late and this was hardly a matter to argue over.

As the governesses of each child escorted the children away, Percy could not help but feel as if he had let the young girl down. He felt sorry for her. Because she had been born a girl, her father turned from her mother and she was made a bastard. Now, just because her brother was a boy, he was able to charm their father far easier. By simply being a male, William had a much greater advantage for the King's favor than his sister. Truly it was unfair, but life is hardly ever fair.

Henry the Eighth, the King of England, watched the retreating backs of his children silently. He loved his daughter, he really did, but sometimes she just resembled her so much. Staring into Elizabeth's eyes was like staring into the accusing eyes of Anne. He had done nothing wrong, but then why did those eyes feel like they were judging him. He just couldn't face it, especially not now. Anne always riled him, challenged him and always brought out emotions that he didn't think were even possible out of him. He just wanted to forget her, to move on with his happy life. He had everything he wanted now, an obedient wife and a male heir to succeed him. But now she has returned, bringing back memories and emotions that he wished to bury. It wasn't just her legacy in the form of her children that was haunting him, she has returned to haunt him herself and it brought him conflicted feelings. He was furious with her for she had defied him again even in death. Her triumph in her survival made him feel like as if he had lost against her, so he sent away a pair of accusing eyes, a constant reminder of her.

* * *

_**November 4**__**th**__**, 1538, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"We will have to move fast if the French have turned against us," Cromwell suggested during the Privy Council meeting.

The King smirked, "Surely, Master Cromwell, you are not suggesting that we be afraid of the French?"

Cromwell shook his head, "England never need fear France, but it would be in England's best interest to be prepared. I have heard that the French have renewed negotiations with Scotland. James V intends to make another French match."

This statement caused some concerns throughout the chamber as a few whispered about the implications amongst themselves. "France has no other Princess," Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk pointed out.

Cromwell nodded in agreement, "I believe the intended bride is Mary of Guise. The French King is paying for her dowry as well as her father. This would be much needed wealth to the Scottish."

"A nobleman's daughter?" Henry asked in surprise. While it was not unheard of, it was rather rare, but then again, the Duke of Guise had pretty much an autonomy in his Dukedom, not unlike the German Princes under the Holy Roman Emperor.

"It is my belief that we should attempt to hinder this marriage as much as possible, as we have tried with the Princess Madeleine," Cromwell suggested.

Thomas Seymour raised a brow, "But how can we stop this? Unless we make the French an offer of marriage. Or perhaps, you mean make the offer to Scotland ourselves?"

Edward Seymour shook his head, "No that won't do. Even if we offer an alliance through marriage to Scotland, we would still be offering them money. They would surely demand a heftier sum from us than France."

"But it would be better than allowing Scotland the strong backings of an outsider," Master Cromwell countered.

"But who would we even offer?" The Duke of Suffolk asked in confusion, "The Lady Mary?"

The suggestion would have been thrown away immediately if it happened a few years earlier. Yet now, Henry could not help but consider it. Mary acknowledged Jane as Queen as he had married her after Katherine's death. She respected Jane and knew Edward was the heir of England. But could he trust Mary not to place herself in the line of succession without his permission? Allowing her to become the Queen of Scotland would grant her not only the Emperor's support but her husband would also have the resources to champion her. Even if Mary did not wish to be Queen in the place of Edward, what was to stop the other two forces from placing her on the throne if they wished to do so? This was too much of a risk for Henry to allow. So he shook his head as many expected him to do.

"It does not necessarily have to be Scotland. Merely that we should attempt to find another ally against the French should they get ambitious," Cromwell acknowledged, "Perhaps one of the German states? John III, the Duke of the United Duchies of Julich-Cleves-Berg has a son who is two and twenty by the name of William. He is set to inherit the duchy upon his father's death. The young man is unmarried. King Francis has been rumored to be considering him a match for his niece, Jeanne of Navarre but the girl is only ten years old currently. The Duke of Cleves has three daughters, Sybille, Anne and Amalia of Cleves. The only one married so far is Sybille of Cleves to John Frederick I of Saxony, the Elector of Saxony and the Head of the Protestant Confederation of Germany. He would provide an useful link to England."

"What of an alliance with the Emperor instead?" asked Edward Seymour.

"There would be no public alliance with the Emperor," Cromwell told Seymour coldly as if speaking to a child, "The Emperor's son is still held in captivity in France. Even if he was ambitious he would not make such an alliance currently. We may be able to come to a secret agreement but nothing substantial in military alliances would result until his only son is released back to him. We could however consider the Emperor's daughter, the Infanta Joan as a bride for Prince Edward. If we only announce it as a marriage, the King of France can find no fault in that."

Cromwell turned back to the King, "For the Lady Mary, there is also Philip, Duke of Palatinate-Neuburg, Count Palatine. He is the grandson of Duke George the Rich of Baveria-Landshut. His land and resources are much smaller compared to the power of Cleves, but he supposedly has connections with both the Catholics and Protestants."

As he made these suggestions, everyone in the chamber was well aware that the neither the Duke of Pembroke and Somerset nor the Lady Elizabeth was mentioned at all. Despite being the King's son and daughter, it was their mother that was the cause for England's need to find other allies.

* * *

_**November 5**__**th**__**, 1538, Pub, Louth, Lincolnshire, England**_

"Did ye hear? Cromwell will start the dissolution of the Churches again?" asked John the farmer to his fellow drinking mates.

"As long as he does not get his greedy hands into the good monasteries," responded James.

"But that just the thing, I heard from good sources that he is planning to dissolve them all. It might be a year before he gets to ours, but Louth Abbey and St. James Church are definitely on the list for dissolution within the year," another John cut in.

"But our monasteries are not corrupt! Our churches are at the center of our lives! We need to write a protest letter to the King, but I suspect that the heart of the matter is really Cromwell. The King has been away at France for the last couple of months." James responded.

"If you ask me, it all started with the Harlot. If it wasn't for her, the King would never have broken away from the true religion," said the first John in anger, "I for one am rather glad that she's dead."

"It's not all the Harlot's fault," said Thomas who had been silent until now, "John, I would be careful with what you say; perhaps you have had too much to drink." To say that the Church of Rome is the true Church is treason.

"If it wasn't for her the King would not have been tempted away from the good Queen Katherine!" John retorted sharply.

James placed a hand on John's shoulder, "Hush John, be careful of what you say. We know what is in our hearts, but do not say anything out loud or you shall bring trouble to all of our heads."

"But he does have a point," a new voice added in, "My name is Charles." He stuck out his hand for everyone to shake of which the group did reluctantly. They had not wanted their conversation overheard.

Charles seemed to pay no mind to the tension in the room, "I completely agree with the good sir there," he motioned to John, "If it wasn't for the Harlot, the good Queen Katherine would not have been set aside. The King would not have been tempted by heretics. Cromwell only rose to power because of that Harlot. He is the reason that our churches are in danger and it all comes down to the Harlot. She is the cause that our children's souls will be in danger. But the good Queen Jane has saved England! She has given England a Prince! Perhaps the young Prince would save us all!" He raised his cup, "To Queen Jane and her son, the Prince Edward!"

There was a murmur of agreement. It appeared with the man's addition, everyone else's conversation had quieted and instead they all tuned in to theirs. Everyone raised their cups and repeated what was spoken, "To Queen Jane and her son, the Prince Edward!"

Thomas did not raise his cup as high or spoke as loudly. When the room quieted again he spoke up once again, "I hear that Anne Boleyn has given the King a son as well. The King acknowledged him and created him a Duke twice over. God granted her a son as well."

James nodded, "I heard that too! In fact I heard that the boy looked like an exact replica of the King, that even the Queen could not deny his parentage. I have a cousin who works in the palace, and she caught sight of the young boy once and confirmed this." This caused another round of murmuring between the people.

"Funny thing. God must work in mysterious ways, Prince Edward is sickly from what I hear, while Anne Boleyn's son is quite healthy," Thomas pointed out.

"They are both young boys, who knows who is actually the healthy one?" retorted Charles but to those who were sober they could not help but notice the slight note of alarm in the man's tone.

"Regardless of the matter, it seemed awfully convenient for Anne Boleyn to die just before the King's wedding to Queen Jane," Thomas retorted back, "It looks to me that the King just got rid of Anne Boleyn because he got bored with her and wished to marry another. Queen Jane was rumored to be the King's mistress when the King still regarded Anne Boleyn as his wife. She can't be as virtuous as she claimed if she was a mistress." There was another fevered murmur at this.

"Queen Jane was as pure a maiden as an angel before she married the King!" Charles's voice raised slightly, "It is awful of you to think otherwise!"

Thomas arched a brow, "Perhaps she was virtuous, but what woman would marry another woman's husband eleven days after her death? I just don't think she is that innocent. Let's face the facts, what woman doesn't want to be Queen? Besides she hardly did anything to save us. She is Queen, but the King is still proceeding with the dissolution of monasteries. He had made no move to return to the Church in Rome even after the death of Anne Boleyn. Queen Jane has also done nothing for our situation. I just don't think Queen Jane has really delivered us from anything. Who knows, maybe she even told the King to kill Anne Boleyn so she could become Queen. We all know that she had the most to gain with her predecessor's death." Whispers got much louder at this accusation.

James nodded, "I think Thomas has a point. I mean we all heard how the King declared the marriage invalid, but I'm sure we are not stupid enough to miss that if the marriage was invalid, how could the woman commit adultery? That was what she was supposedly charged with wasn't it? Queen Jane gave us a prince, but Anne Boleyn gave the King a healthier son as well." More murmurs.

"I reckon the King just switches wives whenever he likes. First it was Good Queen Katherine, and then the Harlot, who knows, maybe in the future, the King would set aside Queen Jane when another pretty face catches his attention," an unknown man spoke, causing the crowd to murmur in agreement.

Charles was annoyed. He had not thought that raising the Queen's and the Prince's popularity in England would be hard at all. He had thought it would be easy money, yet the tag team of this Thomas and James seemed to be undoing a lot of his work, he made his rebuttal nevertheless, "It doesn't matter that the Harlot had a son, the only thing that matters is that Queen Jane has given England its only legitimate Prince!" He placed a bag of coins onto the table, "I for one am eternally grateful to the Queen Jane. A round of drinks on me!" he motioned to the bartender. When those who wanted drinks got one, Charles raised his cup again, "To the health of Prince Edward and may Queen Jane bless us with many more princes!"

This time, the loud cheering of the last toast had diminished greatly. People echoed what was said, but Thomas and James noticed that Jane's name was uttered with much less enthusiasm. People's opinions were truly easily swayed, one just had to know how exactly to push the idea. They still heard the word Harlot amongst the whispers, but at least Jane Seymour's name was not elevated more tonight. It would be a long task ahead before people came to even a neutral feeling about Anne Boleyn, but it was a start. They smiled into their drinks; they had definitely earned their keeps today.

* * *

_**November 6**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Your Majesty," the woman in question curtsied to the Queen gracefully. She was dark haired and very tall. Her face was pleasant and the air about her was respectful. She was everything others had described her to be. Anne could easily see why the woman was rumored to be the second favorite of the Scottish King (after his late wife of course).

Queen Anne smiled, "My Lady, welcome to court."

Mary of Guise smiled back gratefully as she dropped down into a curtsy, rising only when the Queen bent forward gracefully and placed a hand beneath her elbow gently propelling her up. Mary knew why she was summoned to court in such a hurried manner. The news had come as a shock to her seeing as her late husband had only passed away so recently. She had not known that the King and her father had already made plans for her to remarry.

The Queen had sent her an invitation before matters with Scotland was finalized, but the news of her marriage had came only days after. Her new husband to be was royalty, the King of Scotland. It was a very good match for her, a noblewoman marrying a King of another land. Her Father and Mother had said it was luck that the King did not have another daughter of marriage age. Scotland was weaker in military aspects and political power than Poland, so it was no surprise that the Princess Margaret was being considered for a marriage with Poland instead. And even if alliances with Poland fell through, there was always the Holy Roman Emperor's son for the Princess.

Yet, despite the fact that her family repeatedly told her it was an excellent match, she could not help but feel unhappy with it. Scotland was so far away. She would never see her son again once she is married. She would never be able to live in France again. Her future seemed much more gloom than what others saw.

The Queen studied the woman before her. The alliance through marriage between France and Scotland had been finalized and no doubt that Mary of Guise had already heard of the plans. She was to be readied for the proxy marriage within the month and set sail for Scotland immediately afterwards. The King of Scotland was impatient for his new wife despite the fact that he was still mourning his last. The reason was simple, he needed an heir and his late wife, the French Princess was too weak and died far too early.

The woman before her was born as a daughter of a very influential Duke. She was expected to make advantageous marriages. Becoming a Queen of another nation had certainly surpassed the expectations of many, yet Mary did not look exceedingly pleased with herself. Anne was a woman, a mother as well. She understood the emotional turmoil that Lady Mary must be feeling. Anne too had left her children behind to come to a new land. Similarly, they both were not given a choice, the decision made by their fathers. Given their situation, it was likely that they would see their children rarely. Anne understood.

The Queen of France took Lady Mary of Guise's hands into hers and patted them softly with a gentle smile. Her eyes were soft and to Mary it was surprising for it was as if the Queen was telling her that she understood and was comforting her. Mary found herself smiling back, perhaps it was a connection they felt as women. The Queen felt warm and friendly, almost like an older sister.

"I would like to invite your son, Francis the Duke of Longueville to reside with the royal children. He shall be receiving the best care and the best of tutors France has to offer and I will care for him as if he were my own in your absence," Anne told Mary kindly.

Mary smiled and curtsied, "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Anne chuckled softly, "You are to become a Queen soon, please, you may address me informally as Anne. I shall very much like us to be good friends."

Mary nodded, feeling pleasantly warm to the Queen. She felt thankful to the Queen's offer to care for her young son, yet she was shrewd enough to realize the offer wasn't as simple as it sounds. The Queen already had the reputation of being a skilled politician at Court, no doubt her offer to care for her son was also a way to gain control of Mary's son. As long as she remained loyal to the Queen and France, her son will be treated like a Prince. It was just as well, Mary had no desire to turn against France. She might not be French royalty but she loved France.

Besides the Queen appeared to be genuinely friendly, and Mary was keen on making the best of her situation.

* * *

_**November 7th, 1538, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"How is everything, My Lady?" Eustace Chapuys, the Ambassador to England from Spain asked his companion. While he would have gladly address her as 'Princess' or 'Your Highness', if these methods of addressing the young woman before him were overheard, they both would be in a great deal of trouble.

Mary took a deep breath as they walked, "I will not deny that it has been difficult. My father, the King has been of short temper these days. You will have heard about my sister? My father sent the Lady Elizabeth to Woodstock Manor."

"But not the brother of hers," Chapuys muttered darkly. "The boy that the King has granted such grand titles of Duke twice over still remains in favor."

Mary's lips pursed slightly. In truth she did not know how she felt about this. While she hated their mother, they were her siblings. The same blood from their father runs through their veins. It bothered her greatly that her father seemed to still hold feelings for the witch, enough to influence him even now, "William was placed in Prince Edward's household."

"The Queen allowed the bastard to be placed in a Prince's household?" asked Chapuys in slight astonishment. He knew that Queen Jane had a fair temper and was kind and sweet, but the boy was the son of her enemy, Anne Boleyn. The boy was someone who could be a threat to her own son in the future. But perhaps he really should not be surprised as although Queen Jane had solidified her own position she was hardly a woman of great influence at Court, a weakness and a virtue of hers.

Mary nodded, "Of course. It was his Majesty's order."

"I suppose the King still favors him because he is a boy or else he would be with his half-witch sister. But why banished only the girl?" asked the Ambassador. The King had never given a reason for his youngest daughter's banishment from court.

Mary felt a slight annoyance at her old friend and supporter. Elizabeth was still her sister, her father's daughter, "Have your Excellency never took a good look at my sister? She has her mother's eyes in appearance and spirit. Her manners mirror her as well. She reminds my father of her."

"And the boy doesn't." asked the Chapuys.

Mary nodded, "He has her hair and her eyes in color I suppose, but truly he looks more like a replica of my father. His eyes do not hold that same spark as that of Elizabeth. Besides, it is difficult to see a woman in a boy, while it hardly take much imagination to see a woman in her daughter."

"This reminds me of the rumors at Court. In France…" he began but Mary finished the sentence for him, after all this was what had been bothering her for some time.

"The witch is alive and currently fashions herself as the Queen of France," her voice turned cold with hatred, "The alliance with France fell apart because of her." To be honest, Mary was rather glad the alliance fell apart because she much preferred one with Spain.

The Ambassador felt his jaw drop slightly and it was several moments before he recollected his wits, "She is alive? The Queen of France?" He had many suspicions as to the happenings of France, but rumors at Court had turned so wild that he didn't know what to believe anymore. Those who had accompanied the King to France were all too vague in their responses to his and others' questions, almost as if they were afraid to have the truth traced back to them.

"That is what the Queen has told me," Mary responded, "The Devil must have protected her. I only wish that one day justice will find its way to light again and she will face the judgment of Our Lord."

"But how did she manage to become the Queen of France? Has the devil blinded King Francis?" asked the Ambassador.

Mary shook her head, "I don't know. The Queen seemed to believe that she was using another name. The witch managed to create a whole new identity for herself including a family."

"What is her agenda in becoming the Queen of France?" The question was more of a self pondering than anything else. Mary could almost see the gears turning in her friend's mind, "The concubine has always been an ambitious person. She would certainly not sit aside for long. She will have plans for England."

Mary blinked, "But there is nothing that she can do now."

Chapuys shook his head with a frown, "There is much she can do still. She can be an ally to her children just as the His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor is a friend to you, My Lady. If she convinces Francis to send troops to England, the Queen and My Lady will be in great danger." Queen Jane had been instrumental in bringing Princess Mary into the good graces of her father. But to his disappointment, despite the Queen trying hard to push the Princess back into the line of the succession, the King appeared to care little for her opinions. During the reign of the Harlot, Anne Boleyn had greatly influenced the King politically. He had valued her opinions at one time, but why was the current Queen unable to make her husband listen? Will the time be soon when another woman comes into the position of mistress and again have his ears? He just hoped that it was no relative of the Harlot.

Mary frowned as well, "Her Majesty had mentioned that the Harlot did not treat her well in France."

Chapuys nodded in understanding, "I would not expect the Harlot to treat the Queen as a Queen should be treated. Royal protocol has never made an impression in her devil mind. She hated the Queen in the past, calling her a whore on numerous occasions, no doubt she would blame her imprisonment in the tower on her Majesty as well."

Mary scowled, "She has no one to blame but her whorish ways. She has no right to call Queen Jane a whore, when the Queen did nothing but refuse my father. It was what the harlot did in the past wasn't it? Not to mention Queen Jane has certainly treated Elizabeth and William far better than the Witch has treated me in the past."

Chapuys nodded in agreement, "But the heart of the matter is still that she is the Queen of France and as a result someone who holds a great deal of power in Europe currently if she has her husband's ears." He suddenly pursed his lips in disgust, "To think, what will the Emperor say when he hears that the Harlot has control over the household of His Highness Prince Phillip, the Prince of Asturias."

"Is the poor Prince well?" asked Mary in concern. He was her cousin after all.

Chapuys shook his head, "How can he be well in hostile foreign land? There has been no reports of him being physically unwell, but I fear for his highness's mentality," he sighed, "But he has always been a strong child. The Spanish always carry strength in their blood."

Mary smiled, "The Harlot never managed to break my spirits, I am confident she shall not be able to break his." She turned her attention to a related matter, "I have heard that my father intends to pursue an alliance with the Emperor again, to be united against the French."

Chapuys looked delighted, "That would be favorable indeed, but His Imperial Majesty's hands are rather tied at the moment due to the Prince's current condition. But you need not worry, My lady, I am sure there will be a way, there always is. The Emperor has expressed interest in marrying the Infanta Joan to the Prince of Wales."

Mary smiled again, "A worthy match." A betrothal for her brother was a great thing, but she could not help but feel slightly down from the news. She wondered when she will be married. Was her father even looking for a match for her? She longed to be a wife and a mother, but that dream seemed more and more distant with each passing year. This thought brought another wave of anger toward the woman that should be dead. If it wasn't for her, Mary would still be a Princess and likely married with children now. But now, who would have her? What did her future hold?

* * *

_**November 10**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"His Majesty, the King invited the Count and Countess of Châteaubriant back to court," the Duke of Étampes told his daughter, the Queen of France.

The Queen turned her vision to the direction that her father indicated and watched as the couple and their servants moved their belongings across the court yard. Anne and the Duke were almost hidden from view as they examined the new visitors' movements. The countess was dressed elegantly in grey traveling clothes, a single string of pearls in her long braided dark hair. Despite it being beautifully crafted it was far simpler than when she had been the official mistress of the King. Anne's own attire as the Queen of France was far more extravagant. Today she was dressed in a rich gold gown that was form fitting but covered her to the neck unlike the Queen's usual style due to the weather. Her dark hair was left simply down in loose curls, secured away from her face with a large golden tiara of diamonds and rubies. The necklace and earrings that accompanied the Queen were also from the crown jewels made of rubies. "Will her husband be staying long?"

The Duke shook his head, "It is to my understanding that the King has appointed the Count of Châteaubriant, her husband, Jean de Laval, to be the governor of Brittany amongst other favors. The Count is however set to stay until New Year, while the Countess is to stay longer as a Lady in Waiting to you, as Your Majesty well know." Indeed, Anne was aware of the matter. Ladies did not stay at Court without either their husbands or their fathers unless they were serving the Queen.

The Duke continued when the Queen said nothing, "There are rumors that the King wishes to reinstate the Countess as his maîtresse-en-titre."

The Queen turned to face her father with an eyebrow arched, "Is that so?"

The Duke laughed, "If that were the case, would Your Majesty care?"

Anne blinked and thought about the matter. Would she care? She cared greatly when Henry had mistresses because she loved him so much that it hurt to see him love another, but what about Francis? He had a mistress before their marriage, but he dismissed her because of her. He had been faithful now as far as Anne knew (and Anne made an issue to know the happenings of Court). So what if he was to have a mistress again? Would it bother her like it did before? She supposed it would at least a little, after all for a husband to seek out another, did it not mean the wife was unable to keep her husband perfectly happy? Anne knew full well that she was not the perfect wife, but she had her pride nevertheless. Not to mention, a mistress might influence the King politically, steal power from her, something Anne was not so keen about. Then again was it only her pride and ambition that would be hurt by a new mistress? What of her feelings for her husband? It came as a bit of surprise to her that she referred to Francis as her husband so easily. Before whenever she thought of Francis as her husband, there was always a feeling of unease, but now it felt natural as it was a matter of fact. She supposed this was natural as they had been married for more than a year now. It was well time for her to get truly accustomed to her new surroundings and relationships.

The Duke chuckled again when the Queen didn't respond, "I suppose your Majesty do care." It was odd really. In the nearly two years of their acquaintance, he had come to see her as his daughter. Perhaps it was due to the fact that his Anne and the Queen were similar in many aspects. Or perhaps it was because he missed his daughter dearly that he made himself see the similarities. Or the Queen's natural charm allowed him to welcome her. But no matter what the reason was, the heart of the matter was that he saw himself as her father and as her protector. He truly wished for her to find happiness, but her heart seemed to have turned cold due to her past. It was a devastating past, he would admit to that, but she would never be able to let the cold melt if she was not willing to let any warmth in. "I do not believe the rumors are true. The Count's new favors and appointments were all decided upon after Lady Francoise left court the first time. It was a way to thank the lady for the time they had in the past."

Anne nodded, "If not her, then another will come in due time."

The Duke frowned, "I do not believe that the King is similar to the English King. He does not have many mistresses. His Majesty truly loves Your Majesty, anyone at Court with eyes can attest to that. But…" He paused briefly as if debating whether to continue, "But…I give this advice to you as a father, he is still a King. A King is used to getting his way and being loved. His patience will not be forever. His desire for you to love him back will eventually turn into demand, and then if you refuse, it will turn into anger, coldness, and perhaps even abandonment." He sighed, "Perhaps, he is different than what I have just described, but are you sure you should take the risk? And furthermore, with all risks aside, he is your husband. Should a wife not love her husband?"

It was Anne's turn to sigh this time. Adrien de Pisseleu had become somewhat of a confidant of hers. He was someone who acknowledged Anne's past, someone who Anne could discuss her past with when things became too stressful. In a way, he was truly her father, a better father than her natural father had been, "I loved him and he betrayed me. He killed my brother, made our children bastards. I hate him, yet my love for him had been so strong that it still has not disappeared despite the fact I tell myself that it is wrong to love an enemy. He is still on my mind constantly. My actions in France are directed because of him. Even in my dreams, he is there. I constantly wish to hear the happenings of England to hear about his actions. I wish to make him repent his actions, to make him beg me for forgiveness. Can I love another when he is still there?"

There was no question of who the "he" was. The Duke frowned, "Are you sure that is love that you still feel for him? Can you be sure that your desire for revenge has not turned that love of the past to be a fixation, an obsession of sorts? Revenge is a strong emotion, one that could mess with our perception. How can you be sure that you are not only obsessed with what is in the past, what could have been if he had returned your affections fully? What if the love you think you still feel for him is only a mere shadow of the past but your perception is skewed by your thirst for revenge? The past is the past. It may influence us in the present but it can't be the present."

Anne didn't respond. Obsession… Henry had been obsessed with her and her with him once upon a time. Was what he said the truth? Has she mistaken the past for her current emotions? It was all so confusing. She couldn't deny that the past influenced her greatly today, that perhaps there were times when she also felt like that she was living in the past. She had felt so strongly for him that it seemed almost as if she was belittling her love if she just let it go. But then was she trying to make something out of nothing? Was she in love with what her love had been but not actually the person? For once, Anne didn't think she had an answer. She had never thought of it like Adrien had put it.

The Duke continued when the Queen's only response was silence, "Why not give your current husband a chance? Allow him to prove to you that we French men are the ones who truly knows how to love, how to appreciate love and how to savor it. Open your heart again, let new warmth in; it's the only way to step out of the shadows that were casted by the last one."

Anne pursed her lips briefly as she turned to stare at the grey sky. It was rather gloomy today, unlike the usual good weather that she had become accustomed to. She took a deep breath; the air was slightly cold, "Were you able to send the money to my sister, Mary?"

The Duke of Étampes was hardly surprised by the Queen's change in topic. When she didn't wish to think about a topic she usually shied away from it. She was quite stubborn as well. If she made up her mind to leave the topic, there was no point in turning her back to it, "Yes, she has received the money, but is unaware of who her real benefactor is."

Anne nodded. She wanted to bring Mary to the French Court, but that was hardly a possibility. The Court might play guesses at Anne's past, but the King would never allow anyone to confirm it. Yet if she was to bring her sister here, it would be the same as a confession. It was strange really, she was the Queen of France, one would think that she would have everything that she ever desired, yet all the riches and power in the world may not necessarily buy any happiness. That was not to say that she was not content with her current situation, but rather there were times that she truly wished she could have her sister beside her.

A distance away from the Queen and the Duke stood another couple watching the Count and Countess move into their apartments, Lady Diane de Poitiers and Lord Anne de Montmorency. The Lord was dressed in black while the Lady in a deep blue enhanced with pretty sapphire jewels from the Dauphin no doubt. The pair watched the servants hurry along with the luggage for some time, neither speaking up.

Finally it was Diane who broke the silence, "My Lord, you must be glad that the Count has returned to Court? I hear that you are friends."

Montmorency chuckled, "I always welcome everyone to Court."

Diane laughed, "Of course, but especially the Count. I have heard rumors that he is leaving a good portion of his assets to you upon his death seeing that he has no children of his own."

Montmorency smiled briefly, "Rumors, I'm sure," yet his tone suggested otherwise. He turned to face the Queen and her father instead, watching them converse quietly. They were close enough to see that the two shared easiness between them, but too far to actually hear anything. It should be said that the Queen was one to value her privacy, "What do you, My Lady, think they are conversing about?" he asked his companion.

Diane turned from the Count to follow the Marshal's vision, tilting her golden head in thought, "I'm not sure, but they were definitely discussing the Countess moments ago."

The Marshal arched a brow in surprise, "The Queen is worried? I have heard rumors that the King wishes to make Lady Francoise his official mistress again."

Diane faced him with a laugh, "Is that what you believe, My Lord?"

Montmorency shook his head, "I don't know to be honest. The King has always been on friendly terms with Francoise, writing to each other even as they parted ways. With her back at Court, they could easily rekindle that attraction."

Diane smiled, "But My Lord, you are missing a key point. The King loves the Queen. If I am allowed to hazard a guess, I would even say that the Queen may be the first woman he has ever loved. With Lady Francoise, it was attraction and mutual respect, but he never had the spark in his eyes whenever he looks at the Queen."

Montmorency nodded in agreement, "The King loves the Queen, everyone knows that, but what everyone is unsure of is whether the Queen returns those feelings. I have never known the King to be a very patient man. How long will his pride last, before his feelings sour for they are not returned?"

"I'm sure you will capitalize upon that souring feeling. You and I are never ones to pass up on an opportunity. The Queen is at the heart of Brosse and the Admiral's fraction after all. Only with them gone, will you consolidate more power," Diane observed.

Montmorency laughed, "And only with her gone will you return to the center of admiration," he turned to study his companion's appearance. In all honesty, Diane de Poitiers is a beautiful woman, one of the most beautiful women at court if not the most beautiful. She was well educated and always carried herself was a certain grace (there were times when he wondered if the two women would actually become good friends if they actually took the time to converse with each other for they were similar in ways). No one was surprised that she attracted the Dauphin's attentions and kept them. While she might be older than him, the Dauphin had always seemed older than his age, gloomier than a young man his age ought to be. Diane, on the other hand, was also one to age well. Her beauty had not faded despite her years, and she luckily retained much of her youthful appearance. Diane also knew full well that she was one admired by men and women for her beauty. She was vain and on the surface to many she appeared to dislike the Queen as she took the attention of the Court away. However, that was hardly the complete story. She envied the Queen for her power, her influence on the King and the political sway that she held. Before the Queen's arrival, Diane was perhaps the only woman at court with any political sway (save the King's own sister, the Queen Consort of Navarre), and she wanted things to return to that time.

In a way, she had accepted the Queen as the Queen Consort of France, but there were always times when she became jealous or disagreeable as she disliked the Queen's low birth and let's not forget the Queen's very shady past. The fact that the Queen commanded the attention of the room as soon as she set foot into it didn't help matters. The Queen would never be considered more beautiful than Diane, but there was something about Queen Anne. Maybe it was the spark in her eyes, her intelligence, her wit, her very air that made her the most charismatic woman at Court. Montmorency once heard an Englishman describe Anne Boleyn's eyes as 'dark hooks for the soul', a description that truly fit as he came to know the woman. She was a woman that would always be at the center of attention even if she was not Queen. On this matter, Diane has truly lost.

"How are the Dauphin and the Dauphine?" asked Montmorency after a moment of silence.

"You want to know if they will be able to provide France with an heir soon," Diane observed, "Well I suppose, he has returned to her bed after my repeated suggestions." It was always an odd feeling whenever she asked her lover to seek the bed of his wife. She does not like to share, especially share the man that she loved, but she knew well that it was his duty to provide France with legitimate male heirs. Duty came before love and other personal selfishness.

"Yet they have nothing to show for it yet," remarked Montmorency.

"Will you champion the Duke of Orleans then?" Diane asked neutrally, but they both knew it was far from an offhanded comment.

Montmorency smiled, "You need not worry, My Lady. I have been on the Dauphin's side since the beginning. I am not one to jump ship. Perhaps Their Highnesses could consult a physician about the matter, discreetly of course."

Diane nodded, "Perhaps."

"I have heard that the Dauphine has been a friend of the Queen," Montmorency told Diane, "Yet they have not met often lately."

"The Dauphine and the Queen do not appear to agree on certain aspects of religion. The Queen is rather tolerant of certain heretics and the King is indulgent," Diane explained. Obviously the matter was far more complex than Diane has worded it. They both knew that Anne Boleyn was rumored to have played a heavy hand in the creation of the Church of England. She was rumored to be a heretic at heart. Here she played her role as a good Queen in Catholic France, but everyone, including those who knew nothing of her past, suspected that the Queen was a sympathizer of the Protestants. Catherine, however, was definitely Catholic, the niece of a former Pope. Their differences here would have come up eventually.

"Has the Dauphine declared herself an enemy of the Queen?" asked Montmorency in curiosity.

Diane shook her head, "Not to my knowledge, but I am hardly considered a confidant to the Dauphine. However, Catherine is a shrewd woman. She understands that she has little allies in France, and thus she would never ostracize those that she has. Besides, I suspect she may genuinely like the Queen for she has always treated the Dauphine with kindness. They are merely having a disagreement of sorts."

"And the Dauphin's thoughts?" asked the Marshal.

"On the Queen or Catherine?" asked Diane.

The Marshal laughed, "Both I suppose, for my curiosity."

"He respects Catherine as a consort but he is not attracted to her and does not love her. He understands that his wife is intelligent, but he does not like to converse much with her," she explained, "As for the Queen…" she paused to think over the matter, "I am unsure how he feels about her. He may be young, but we of all people should be aware that he is far from simple minded. He is a politician and a courtier, a future King. He can see that the Queen has solidified her position with the birth of Prince Francois and does not wish to disturb that matter short of something drastic. It is almost as if he and the Queen have come to a silent agreement, neither bothering the other."

The explanation came as a bit of a surprise to the Marshal, "As if? He did not tell you any details himself?"

Diane replied flatly, "I may be his confidant and his lover, giving me some sway over him, but he has a mind of his own. The court underestimates him, but you and I know better."

"Indeed, but it is a pity that the King does not have more confidence in him."

"Hardly, I believe that My Lord, you will agree that the King sees potential. This is far better than if the King thinks his heir too capable. Kings always view those who are too capable as a threat to their own throne, blood or not, for those who are too capable may seek the throne before their time," Diane remarked quietly.

Montmorency smiled, "His Highness is not that capable yet. Even if he was, his opponent is no simple fool. Besides, he respects his father far too much to even contemplate treason."

"And we respect the King as much as well," she added.

"Why of course, My Lady." The statement was rather genuine. Francis was a powerful and capable King. He inspired fear and love from his subjects and that fear inspired loyalty. To think otherwise would be equivalent of seeking death.

* * *

_**November 18**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

Anne liked the outdoors. France was not as cold as England and thus even when it was so close to winter, she enjoyed taking walks outside. The sky was clear, not a hint of a white puffy cloud and the sun was out shining directly above their heads; however, the November air had taken a turn for the cold today.

The Queen of France was dressed in a thick Black and Gold gown. It covered her well from the chilly wind, but still occasionally a sharp breeze managed to cause the Queen a small shiver. Her ladies were well trained in caring for their mistress and such a shiver would hardly pass unnoticed by them. Lady Francoise de Chabot, the wife of Admiral Philippe de Chabot, was immediately at the Queen's side, "Your Majesty, would you like to go back inside?"

Queen Anne of France gave her Lady in Waiting a smile, "No, just a little longer outside, I think."

"Perhaps, I should send someone back to fetch a coat and a hat for Your Majesty?" asked the Lady.

Anne was about to nod when she heard her husband's voice from behind her, "No need, My Lady, I have brought it already." Francis, the King of France's voice was gentle and quite jolly of late. Politically, things have been going well for France and it left their King in a quite spectacular mood.

Anne smiled as Francis draped the large fur coat across her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Your Majesty," she curtsied.

The King smiled back, "I went to your apartments and the servants informed me that you came here instead. I have heard that you have been unwell of late and I didn't want you to catch a cold." One of Anne's ladies helped her remove the large golden headdress that resembled a tiara, while another helped to secure the hat that the King had brought to their mistress's head.

"It's nothing to be too concerned over. I have just been feeling nauseous for a few mornings. I will have a physician attend to me if it worsens," Anne told Francis.

Francis nodded and extended his left arm for Anne to take, "I think I will join you." Anne linked arms with Francis who turned to her ladies, "You may all go back inside. None of you are dressed heavily either." With a nod from the King, the ladies hurried away, some secretly smiling as it was evident that the King wished for some private time with his wife.

When they were alone, the King and Queen of France began to stroll through the gardens at a slow pace, "Will you see a physician when we return?" asked the King, there was a note of concern in his voice.

Anne laughed, "I am fine, really. It's just a slight nausea and I suppose the food recently has not been very appealing."

"Why didn't you say anything before? You are the Queen of France, you may demand what you wish to eat," he reminded her.

"I could not think of something different I wanted," she replied offhandedly.

"Perhaps some English cuisine?" suggested the King.

Anne shook her head, "No, I have preferred French Cuisine since I was a little girl," she smiled briefly, "But I seem to have developed a particular liking of apples."

"Apples?" asked Francis in surprise, then he smiled, "Very well, I will see what I can do." The couple took a right turn in comfortable silence before the King spoke again, "I have received news from Spain. The Holy Roman Empress is pregnant."

Under normal circumstances, this news was rather trivial to another monarchy unless they were planning for a marriage alliance, but now, this was incredibly important, "When is she due?"

"My ambassador informed me that it should be late April or perhaps early May," he responded.

"What are your plans then?" asked Anne. The biggest leverage France had against Spain was that the Emperor had only one son. The value of Prince Phillip would diminish should his mother give birth to another healthy boy.

Francis sighed, "We can't be sure that the child is a boy but it would be best if we are prepared. Besides, even if it is not a boy, there will come a time soon, when we must return the Emperor's son back to him. War will come. I admit I am an ambitious man. I wish to create an Empire, to leave a strong legacy for my successor. The French army has gotten stronger and the will is strong. There will come a time when I will lead my army into battle, and I wish you to become regent in my absence. I trust you and your abilities. With you taking care of the states affairs I can truly concentrate on creating my Empire. That time is not today, and perhaps not even next year, but be prepared Anne, it may come sooner than you expect."

Anne patted her husband's arm briefly with a smile. It truly was a sign of trust for the Dauphin was old enough to serve as regent in his father's absence, "I always am."

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_

Many of you thought Henri was a somewhat a moron (can't blame you as I have been portraying him from other's perspectives), I hope this chapter showed that he isn't one. Anne doesn't see Henri clearly, perhaps underestimating him in some ways, but Henri might be overestimating himself as well. So the real person, is probably somewhere amongst the views.

Mary of Guise's marriage to the King of Scotland was finalized in January 1538 and she sailed for Scotland in May of 1538. But here, with the battle of Paris and all the crazy events, that was just delayed.

The bar scene is a bit similar to ReganX's idea in "On the Edge of a Golden World" (by the way, that is an excellent read if you like Henry/Anne pairings), but here it serves more than one purpose. The first is obvious, the second, you guys can probably guess.

Francoise de Foix should have died in 1537, but I like her, so there you have it.

The Lady Mary still hates Anne...can't really blame her as Anne has not done anything to change the girl's opinion (even though it is skewed in certain aspects)...not everyone is going to like Anne. I can't blame Mary's feelings, as to her, she probably need someone to blame for all the hardships she has endured.

Next Chapter: The sort of "start" of Anne and Francis pairing (there weren't many interactions in this chapter).

As always, my writing status will be in my profile.

So please **Review**! Reviews feed my motivation, speculations and comments feed my muse, both of which feed the story, lol. I do hope you all enjoyed the chapter despite the long wait.

Love,

Cruelangel


	12. Chapter 11: Lessons

**Title: Nemesis**

**Author: **Cruelangel101

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing...Not the characters, not the show, and certainly not the production company…can anyone own history?

**Detailed Summary:** Starting from the scene where Anne watched her brother's execution, Anne finds herself pregnant with the King's child. They thought she was saved, but the King still enraged and determined to marry Jane Seymour, chose to believe the child was the offspring of one of the executed man. Anne's execution was determined to proceed after the birth of her child. A plot from an unexpected family member, rescued her from the tower and in the most bizarre chain of events she ended up as the Queen of France. All the while her rival Jane Seymour rises to the position of Queen of England. Her heart cold from betrayal and filled with hopes for revenge, what would the future hold? Can new warmth melt her iced heart or will past spark ignite once more? This time when two men battle for her heart, the consequence is war. (Queen of France and son after the tower ideas are hardly new to fanfic, but I would like take a new spin on it.)

**Pairings:** Anne/Francis I and Anne/Henry VIII (Anne-past/left over feelings; Henry-one sided)

**AN:** Big thanks to my Beta**, Audriel**, who helped with the messier aspects on the chapter greatly.

**I would like to take a special moment to thank everyone who reviewed this story. I can't believe it is already over 500, I'm really touched and extremely happy. Also thank you to everyone who put the story on alert and favorites or simply just continued to read the story. The support has always been so wonderful.**

**Nemesis…the Greek goddess of revenge…**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Lessons**

_History and experience become our foundation of knowledge and wisdom and great many lessons could be derived from them._

_**November 19**__**th**__**, 1538, Snape, North Yorkshire, England**_

"How do you feel about Court life, My Dear?" Her husband asked during supper. The question came as a bit of a surprise as he had not really expressed a desire to live in the fast-paced life of Court.

She blinked, "Have you received an invitation for Court?"

He shook his head, "Not yet, but I will soon. I disagree with certain aspects of the King's council and have a desire to give to England," he took a bite of his chicken and a sip of wine before speaking again, "If you would like to go with me, perhaps you could write to the Lady Mary, the King's Daughter, to remind her of your mother's friendship to her mother. I have heard that she is accepting more ladies into her household."

She nodded, but said nothing on the matter that as a man not in favor, he hardly had much if any influence at Court. He was, however, correct in her connections to Queen Katherine. In fact, she had connections to both of the King's first two Queens. Her mother was Maud Green and was once a Lady in Waiting and a close friend of Queen Katherine of Aragon. Maud Green married Sir Thomas Parr, the Lord of the Manor of Kendal in Westmorland. In 1529, when she had been seventeen she had married her first husband, Sir Edward Burgh. Her first husband's father had been the Lord Chamberlain of Anne Boleyn. He had famously torn down Queen Katherine's banner after she was banished from Court and Anne Boleyn was declared Queen Consort.

Her first husband passed away in 1533, and she married her current husband John Neville in 1534. He was the third Baron Latimer of Snape in North Yorkshire and was much older than her at the age of 40 at the time of their marriage. In contrast to her first husband, he was a supporter of the old religion and had strongly opposed the King's divorce with Queen Katherine and his subsequent marriage to Anne Boleyn. Using his known position and her mother's connection, culturing the favor of Lady Mary was hardly difficult.

"What is it that you wish to accomplish at Court?" asked Lady Catherine Neville formerly known as Catherine Parr.

Baron John Neville sighed, "Master Cromwell is planning the dissolution of the Churches and Monasteries. At the rate he is going, it will only be a matter of time before a rebellion broke out. Let us not forget that the people around Louth are especially stubborn. What is to say that our safety will not be threatened if they rebel against Cromwell? There are others at Court who share my opinion and we will work together to convince the King otherwise, but should we fail, it will be to our benefit to be as far from here as possible."

Catherine nodded in understanding, "But what about the children, John and Margaret?" John and Margaret were her husband's children from a previous marriage and thus her stepchildren. They got along rather well, although her relationship with her stepson was slightly strained at times.

"They are children. Even if the Rebellion came to our house, I do not believe that they will threaten mere children," her husband's voice was quite confident.

Catherine smiled, "Very well, I will write to the Lady Mary then." The truth was that in her heart she was a reformer, someone who was unsatisfied with the Old Church. The King's break from Rome had been happy news to her, but the Church of England was truly not much different from Rome. To her disappointment the break was only for the sake of political convenience. Yet, the King's former wife, Anne Boleyn, had been a reformer at heart as well. Sadly, while she brought about the break from Rome she was unable to keep her life. She was hated in England now, but Catherine would not be surprised that someday in the future that Anne Boleyn might be look upon as a heroine, a martyr of the Protestant faith. She just hoped that the poor woman's children would be able to learn their mother's faith.

* * *

_**November 20**__**th**__**, 1538, Manor of the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, England**_

She hated the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, she absolutely hated her.

She had had an unfortunate life, being the daughter of the third son of the late Second Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Howard. Her father had been Lord Edmund Howard and her mother Joyce Culpeper. Her mother died in 1531, when she was only ten years old. Together, her mother and father had six children, three sons and three daughters, far too many children for their financial situation as after her death, their father was known to be a spendthrift and quickly dissipated what lands they had in Kent. As a result, their family came into quite a lot of debt and she and her siblings were sent to live with the Dowager Duchess, her step-Grandmother. Luckily her father's two subsequent marriages did not provide any more siblings.

Her Uncle was Thomas Howard, the Duke of Norfolk, and supposedly in good Graces with the King. She had famous cousins as well, one that became the Queen of England, but they had never met. She had been young when her cousin became the Queen of England, but she had heard the tales. The Dowager Duchess had been ecstatic to be 'related' to the Queen of England and had ordered her entire household to hold the Queen in the highest regard. To her, the tales she had pieced together had seemed like a fairytale, the King of England falling in love with one of his subjects and raised the poor girl up to the riches. She had even fantasized her own shiny prince to rescue her from the Dowager Duchess's household. Yet that fairytale she had been so fond of hardly had a good ending. Just when she came to believe that her cousin would one day allow her to become a Lady in Waiting and meet many eligible young men, her dreams of Court life was destroyed by the news that two of her cousins were to be executed for treason.

In that moment, even her Uncle and the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk were afraid that their association with Anne Boleyn would bring about the downfall of the Howards. They had denounced the Queen then, and Cousin Anne had died in the Tower. It had been a nightmare end to a fairytale. She wondered if her own fairytale would have the same ending.

Fairytale love story…this brought her back to her original point. She hated the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk. The Dowager Duchess's household was dull whenever she was around, but there were many girls and boys living under the same roof. Often the Duchess would not watch them and behavior in the household was rather wanton and free. This kind of freedom lost her innocence but it taught her how to please a man. She had allowed certain liberties with her music instructor, Henry Mannox, which she probably shouldn't have. Henry Mannox had introduced her to the idea of men, but she had not loved him. She loved her lover now, Francis Dereham. She giggled as she thought of him. He had promised to marry her and even had her take care of his money as a wife should. They even referred to each other as husband and wife.

Francis wasn't a Prince or a King and she knew that he would not bring her to riches but he loved her. She really just wanted to be loved, so he was her fairytale. But their tale didn't seem like it would have much of a happy ending. The Dowager Duchess had eventually found out about their affair and promptly sent him away. She hated that woman. Why did she have to ruin everything? She was going to be married, the first girl amongst the Duchess's household to do so and her husband loved her. Now she was left with nothing.

* * *

_**November 30**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"I heard the Physician attended to you this morning?" asked Francis, the King of France as he enjoyed dinner with his wife.

Anne smiled across the table. While it could be said that she now had sets of eyes and ears to keep her fully informed of the happenings of court, Francis too knew full well of his surroundings, "Yes, I saw him and a midwife this morning."

The King took a sip of his wine, "A midwife?" he asked, but the smile had already made it to his face. Both of them had suspected the result for a few days but neither said anything without confirmation from a professional.

Anne nodded, "It appears that I am with child again.," then she frowned momentarily, "They were slightly concerned though that it was so soon after Francois's birth that they feared my body has not recovered completely." The frown disappeared quickly enough, "Although I am sure that if I rest well in the months to come, everything will be fine."

He laughed, "It makes me most happy to hear the news, Wife. Rest assured that I will spare no expenses to ensure the safe delivery of our child and the healthy recovery of our Queen. You must not tax yourself much and if there is anything you should desire tell me so immediately."

Then his eyes sparkled as if he was suddenly inspired, the King stood and motioned the servants to move his plate and chair to the setting next to his wife, royal protocols be damned, "I have happy news for you as well, Anne. My Envoys to Poland have informed me that Queen Bona Sforza is quite happy to make an alliance with France instead. She has agreed to convince her husband to our side, and knowing the capabilities of the Queen; I will confidently say that Margaret's marriage to her son is assured."

Anne was delighted. This was the first step of their plans and it had worked out wonderfully, "When will Margaret travel to Poland?"

Francis paused in thought briefly, "Not for a while yet, I believe. She is only fifteen this year; I think another year or two would not hurt anything." Anne smiled at Francis. He adored his children, and after the death of Princess Madeleine, Margaret became his only surviving daughter and it was obvious that he did not wish to part with her so soon.

"The children will be arriving in two weeks in preparation for the Christmas season. Perhaps, it is time that Margaret stays at court even after the other children leave?" She suggested. Margaret would be intended for marriage soon, and as her stepmother, Anne felt that she had much to teach the child. Queen Claude was unable to teach her daughter how to be a wife and a Queen, and now that responsibility rested upon Anne and Anne had no desire to let the late Queen down.

Francis blinked and laughed, "Of course. I have neglected such an important detail. I believe Margaret shall enjoy staying at Court, especially with the fancy balls and feasts and jousts that she cannot normally enjoy at Chateau de Saint-Germain-en-Laye. Margaret will benefit greatly to have a mother teach her things women ought to know. She needs that female touch before we send her off to her husband. Never let the Polish look down up our French women for our French Court truly produces the best. Why, just look at what a woman our Queen of France is."

Anne chuckled, "Flattery is like jewels to a woman's heart."

Francis feigned shock momentarily before speaking in mock seriousness, "Flattery is like jewels? Then I suppose you will not want the gift I have brought you then, as flattery has already satisfied you."

The corner of Anne's mouth curved slightly, "I thought that we came to an understanding, Your Majesty. The money should be spent on the army or the poorer subjects of France."

Francis nodded, "And I respect your wishes, Madame. However, can you deny a man from giving a gift to his beloved wife?" He turned to one of servants and snapped his fingers. The young lad immediately came forward and brought out a small box, placing it in front of the Queen with bow. The King took it in his hand, and gently lifted the clasp and pulled the lid open, "It is nothing extravagant at all nor is it expensive. It is just something small. I designed it myself."

Anne took a peek into the box. Inside was a small silver hair pin. The base of the pin was shaped like twigs and on top were paper thin delicate silver leaves entwined in a delicate pattern, almost Grecian like. Above the leaves, rested silver nodules that served as a base for two medium sized flowers, one made of diamond and the other sapphire. Compared to the Crown Jewels, this was truly far less extravagant, yet there was a certain delicacy to it, an elegance of sorts. The Queen picked the small object up. In size it was only half of her palm, and surprisingly very light. She smiled, "Thank you. It's beautiful."

"I'm very pleased that you like it," the King's grin was wide as Anne placed the pin back inside the box and he closed it. The box was then handed to one of the Queen's ladies and the royal couple returned to their meal, "I have been thinking about marriage prospects for Charles. What do you think of the Emperor's daughter, the Infanta Joan?"

Anne nearly snorted in amusement as she drank her soup. Their spies in England had recently informed them that the King of England was pursuing the Infanta Joan for his son, Prince Edward. There was a twinge of annoyance as Anne thought of the child. She had heard that Henry had finally officially created the boy the Prince of Wales and even given Jane a coronation much to Anne's displeasure. With these news, she had also found about Elizabeth's banishment, William being placed in Edward's household, and of course her father's permanent stay in the tower. She could not claim that she was surprised by these news, as it was as she had expected, perhaps even better than she expected. That, however, was not to say that she was at all happy with the results.

"I am not aware the Spanish is so popular recently." The Queen took a sip of her wine, she could not help but point out, "Yet the Spanish aren't known to have many males in their line."

Her education in the French Court had taught her to hate the Spanish, but truly she had disliked Katherine. It was rather like a cycle. Her education made her hate Katherine and Katherine made her hate the Spanish.

Perhaps it was rather ill of her to speak of Katherine with dislike; after all, she had been at the center of the cause for the old Spanish Infanta's downfall. But there was no point in pretending to be something she was not. If the woman hadn't been so stubborn, then Anne would never have wasted so much of her fertile years waiting for Katherine's removal. She was perfectly aware it was extremely hypocritical of her to hate Katherine when Anne herself would have never stepped aside for Jane Seymour. Katherine had called her an expensive whore and Anne had called Jane a whore. She had been truly insulted by Katherine yet Jane still infuriated her. Humans are naturally selfish, seeing things often only from their own point of view. Anne was human. This was a fault of hers yet it was her. There was not much she could do to change her views; she wasn't going to become best friends with Jane Seymour anytime in the future just like Mary would never haved called Anne, mother.

Francis chuckled, "I suppose you are correct. Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain had six living children, yet the child who succeeded them was Queen Joanna. Similarly, Emperor Charles only has one surviving son. Katherine of Aragon only gave a single living girl to Henry of England. But I suppose in her case her husband could also be at fault. Given how…_adventurous_, the English King is in his _conquests_, it is rather odd that he only has five children to show for it. Out of those five, only two do I hear are completely healthy and one is dead."

"Given the Spaniard's history, you are still looking at the Infanta Joan as a possible future daughter?" asked Anne. The discussion of the Spanish fertility was all in jest for son or not, they were obviously fertile. Although, if they had been choosing a bride for the Dauphin it would be a different matter, for France's laws did not allow daughters to gain the throne.

Francis smirked, "I have not actually thought whether I wish to make this marriage when it is time. Besides, the Infanta Joan does seem a better idea than a daughter from the rather sickly looking Jane Seymour. But for now, I simply like to hinder the English's plans. They are frantically looking for allies of their own to counter-balance the rising power of France in European politics. I am simply ruffling their feathers."

"A rather unhealthy obsession you have in the competition with England," Anne observed. Even with the English King back in England, it appeared that Francis had not forgotten the desire to push at the English King.

Francis took a sip of his wine and lowered his voice so that only the two of them could hear, "No more unhealthy than your own."

"I do not have an obsession," Anne retorted, the conversation with her French father playing back in her mind momentarily.

Francis laughed, "Of course not, Madame," his tone was clear that he was not swayed from his opinion by his wife's response.

Anne sighed, "I believe it would be best if we formally invite Prince Phillip to Court for the Christmas season. He will be unsure of his status otherwise." She changed the topic although she did wonder whether Francis had a conversation with Adrien recently. They certainly would have the opportunity to talk seeing as Adrien was one of Francis's ministers.

France nodded, "Of course, I shall have presents prepared for him as well. It would be rather disappointing for the young boy not to receive gifts that are of the standard that he is used to."

Anne shook her head, "Not standards he is accustomed to. The presents must be better, perhaps even better than Charles's gifts. Charles is only seven years old, it would be expected that an eleven years old Prince would receive something more substantial."

"Yet he is a prisoner no matter how well you make his conditions seem," retorted Francis. He wasn't unwilling to provide something better for Phillip but he was curious as to Anne's point.

Anne nodded, "He is a prisoner. Everyone knows that including him. He had been prepared by his mother and Court to expect the worst. What they didn't prepare him for is the best. His opinion of France will be influenced greatly by how he spends this season. If we treat him like a Prince, like an honored guest despite both parties knowing full well his true position, he will feel indebted to France or at the very least feel favorable to France. His father is an enemy but he is also old. There will come a time when Phillip will take that throne, this way we have at least attempted to turn him into a natural ally."

"He is a Habsburg and although a child, he is not someone who would be easily manipulated. Spain's loss here was a disgrace, a mark that he will remember well into his adult years. He will want his revenge just like his father," Francis replied honestly.

"You may be right, but this way perhaps he will at least think twice. Besides, there is nothing wrong in making a frightened child's holiday season a little better," she told her husband with a smile.

Francis smiled back, "I had no idea you were so kind to Spaniards."

Anne grinned mischievously, "Well I can't say I like Spaniards, but I have come to the conclusion that they can't help being born into that family with terribly large chins."

Francis laughed.

* * *

_**December 15**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau. France**_

Both Francis and Anne were waiting just inside the main entrance of Palais du Fontainebleau by the time the Royal children were scheduled to arrive. They were not forced to wait long before the footsteps of the children and their attendants were heard. Accompanying the quick footsteps, the herald's voice was loud as he made his announcement, "Presenting His Imperial Highness, Prince Phillip, the Prince of Asturias. Presenting His Highness, Princes Charles, the Duke of Orleans. Presenting His Highness, Prince Francois, Duke of Angouleme. Presenting Her Highness, Princess Margaret of France."

The first to bow to the King and Queen of France was Phillip, the Prince of Asturias. As a foreign Prince he was on the same level as the French Princes in terms of precedence. At most times, the Prince of the host country would be announced first, but as Phillip was older and a political prisoner, it had been decided to give him precedence in an attempt to emphasize to the boy that he was still respected as a Prince.

"Your Majesties," the Prince Phillip was rather solemn as he made his bow. Despite being treated as an honored guest, it was difficult to forget that he did not have his freedom.

Anne smiled warmly at him, "Your Highness, I am so very glad that you could join us for Christmas." The Prince gave a small shy smile back. The Queen was always warm when she saw him. At times, it did make him wonder if it was all an act (to be honest, he was quite sure it was mostly an act), for it was in such contrast with his situation. Yet the French had never treated him with disrespect (save for not allowing him freedom) and he suspected it had been on the orders of the Queen. She visited them often in the household of the French royal children and every time she always made him feel for just a little while that he was only visiting France.

The next to step up and face the King and Queen was Prince Charles and Princess Margaret of France. Charles bowed as Margaret curtsied, speaking in unison, "Your Majesties."

The King beamed at his children.

A step behind the Prince and Princess was the nurse of Prince Francois who was attempting to calm the five month old infant who had apparently noticed the difference in his surroundings and started to work himself up in excitement or perhaps anxiety. The poor woman was quite nervous as the Prince became more and more noisy much to her embarrassment as it drew many eyes to her.

The King laughed at his youngest son's attempts at attention. He walked to the nurse and took the infant into his arms, bouncing him lightly. It took a matter of moments before the infant stopped fussing and giggled in his father's warm comfort. With many children before Francois, Francis had learned his lessons with children well.

Anne smiled as she watched Francis with their son. It was a rather warm moment to see the love a man bared his child. She had loved watching Henry with Elizabeth…yet here she was making comparisons again. She pushed the thought away. She didn't want to think of the past right now, simply enjoy the present with the children.

"Shall we attend supper then?" asked Francis after a moment.

"Are we to dine together, Father?" asked Margaret, she could not hide the small tone of excitement in her voice.

Francis nodded with a big grin, "Yes, everything has already been prepared. I suppose we will have to allow you all time to rest a little after your long journey, and little Francois here certainly won't be able to use his forks anytime soon." and so it was decided that the King and Queen would walk the children to their Nursery before they went about their affairs.

As everyone turned to walk, little Charles essentially dropped Court protocol as he ran to his stepmother's side, placing his hand in hers and gave her his best toothy smile, "Mama."

Anne smiled indulgently at the young boy. It was true that Prince Charles and Princess Margaret were not her own flesh and blood, but she had come to love them as her own. It was odd really considering how things were with her last stepdaughter. Yet Charles and Margaret never hated her, they opened their hearts to her immediately, respected her and treated her as if she was their natural mother. In turn, she returned their love.

Prince Phillip followed the happy French family to the Nursery where he was also staying. It was almost astonishing how close the French children were to their stepmother. Prince Charles chattered non-stop as he attempted to fill the Queen in on all his doings since they last saw each other. Princess Margaret mostly conversed with her father but chimed in every once in a while in her brother's conversation (usually to correct something he told wrongly as the Prince had a tendency to paint himself in the best light and leave out other aspects of his life) but there was a sense of ease and happiness. It really was odd to Phillip. If he had not known of their history, he would never have suspected that the Queen was their stepmother. Then again perhaps it did make sense, since neither the Prince nor the Princess, really knew their own mother well, and thus they were instantly attracted to a very charismatic Queen.

* * *

_**December 17**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Your Majesty," the Princess Margaret curtsied, then with a smile she added, "Mother." The Princess had always been quite taken with her step-mother. Her little brother was smitten and often dropped all royal protocol when he came into her presence. He had started to call the Queen, 'Mama', the day she married their father. The Princess had however always been proper, addressing her as 'Your Majesty' or 'Madame'. Yet more recently, perhaps due to her brother's influence she too started to address the Queen like a daughter would to her mother. However, she had deemed her brother's 'Mama' too childish and settled into using 'Mother' when they were alone.

Anne smiled back brightly as she motioned her step-daughter to join her by the fireplace. The royal children and their party had arrived two days prior. While she had greeted them initially and enjoyed supper with them twice, she had not truly had a chance to interact with them. This day, she had finally made time and summoned the young girl to her chambers so they may converse privately, one woman to another, "How are your studies?" She asked once the princess settled into the seat next to the cozy fire.

"Well. My tutors have recently begun teaching me Polish and Lithuanian. They said it was Mother's orders," replied Princess Margaret.

Anne nodded, "You will have heard about your marriage plans?"

"Yes, Henri wrote to me and explained it," the young Princess replied.

"Your future intended is to be Sigismund II Augustus, three years your senior. He will be the future King of Poland and Grand Duke of Lithuania. I wanted you to start learning Polish and Lithuanian for this purpose. It has always been my belief that you cannot make a man fall in love with you if you cannot even communicate with him," Anne's ladies placed two cups and a pot of hot tea on the table next to fireplace, pouring both the Princess and the Queen a cup.

"Has Father decided upon a date?" asked Margaret.

Anne noticed the nervousness in the Princess's voice but did not comment on it for she knew Margaret liked to appear brave for she had deemed that now that she was fifteen she must act every inch the adult. What she failed to notice was that many adults were hardly brave. Anne shook her head, "No, but he has stated that he wishes to wait for at least another year or two," then with a teasing smile she added, "I don't think he is quite ready to part with you yet."

The Princess seemed to let out an audible sigh of relief. Anne continued, "It has also been decided that you shall remain at court until the time of your marriage. There is much to learn until then…and of course much fun to enjoy before married life claims you."

The Princess's eyes widened, "I can stay?" Court was full of intrigue, of pretty gowns and fancy jewels. It was a place where the high class came together and decided the future of the country. It was a place of intrigue, of mystery, of excitement. Margaret loved coming to Court for special occasions and she was quite ecstatic to hear that she could stay and enjoy the festivities of Court for much longer than she had thought.

Anne nodded, "I have prepared more permanent apartments for you. It is close to my chambers here, but I am afraid that the decorations have not been completed before your arrival. They have assured me that it will be ready before New Years," she gave Margaret an apologetic smile; "I hope you are not too upset with me?"

Margaret shook her head immediately, "Of course not, Mother."

The Queen took a sip of her tea, "Today shall be our first lesson and I shall tell you a story that has happened not too long ago. The Infanta Katherine of Aragon had been betrothed to King Henry VII's son, Arthur of England. However, merely months after the marriage the Prince of Wales passed away leaving her a widow. Henry VII had not wanted to return the dowry brought by the Spanish Princess so the two countries negotiated a new marriage between Arthur's younger brother, Henry and Katherine. The couple married once Prince Henry became King Henry VIII. It was reported that in the early years of their marriage, the King loved Katherine; however, that love did not last.

"Katherine had failed to give the King a son and in his frustration he turned to many women. One of which was by the name of Anne Boleyn. She had been different from the other women for she refused to be his mistress. He fell in love with her and she in turn promised him that she would deliver sons if they were married. The King of England thus appealed to the Pope to annul his first marriage, and a trial was set. Katherine fought the King stubbornly for years, refusing to let him have his way. Her stubbornness angered him and her nephew, the Emperor's sacking of Rome made annulment impossible. As a result, England broke away from Rome and created its own Church with the King as the head. With absolute power, the King still furious with Katherine banished her from Court and declared their marriage invalid for she had been his brother's wife. Their daughter, Mary, became a bastard.

"The King married the ambitious Anne Boleyn and together they had a daughter much to the disappointment of the King. His new Queen then suffered two more miscarriages as the King took more mistresses and came to believe that Anne Boleyn would never give him his desired son. Another woman caught his eyes soon. She too came from an ambitious family and learned from her predecessor to refuse the King's advances. You will remember her, Jane Seymour. So he brought up charges against Anne Boleyn hoping with her death there would be no dissent over who the Queen of England was for Katherine was now dead. She died in the tower after giving birth to the King's son and both the boy and his sister were made bastards in the wake of their father's new marriage to Jane Seymour."

The Queen took another sip of tea before continuing, "So tell me, what have you learned from this tale?" It was odd to recount her life as a third party and even odder to reflect over both her predecessor and her own mistakes with her step-daughter. Yet there had been so many mistakes in England that Margaret would benefit to learn from it. As a Princess, her father can provide her with a good marriage, but whether she would find happiness and safety in it will solely depend on herself.

Princess Margaret's brows furrowed, "The English King is a tyrant?"

Anne chuckled, "That he may be, but what have you learned from Katherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn's life?"

The Princess took a moment to think before responding, "Mistresses are dangerous. Anne Boleyn was essentially his mistress before he got rid of Katherine of Aragon and then Jane Seymour was his mistress when Anne Boleyn was queen."

Anne nodded, "A mistress…we have been taught that a mistress is someone who has physical relations with a married man. Both Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour had refused the King," she pointed out.

Margaret shook her head, "But they were both ambitious, they wanted to be Queen."

"So perhaps, we should change our conclusion to ambitious women who attract the King are dangerous?" Anne reworded for step-daughter.

The Princess nodded, "A son is also important. If Katherine of Aragon had a son then the King of England would not be setting her aside."

Anne sipped her tea, "You are of course quite correct. England has just concluded a civil war due to a dispute over succession. As a result Henry VIII was obsessed with getting a son. He broke with the Church in Rome and made himself the most powerful man in England, the one with absolute authority. It was an action that made him an enemy of the Catholic states. Poland would not have the bravery to create a new Church. Whether a son is needed to keep the marriage valid is not the case of our discussion. What else have you noticed from the tale?"

There was another small pause, "The King had been angry because Katherine had outwardly fought against him," the Princess blinked three times in rapid succession as a new thought entered her mind, "Mother, if Queen Katherine had agreed to go to a nunnery or something instead as some royalty chooses when there are no heirs, would her daughter, Mary, still be a Princess?"

Anne smiled, "An interesting question. I am afraid that I cannot answer that for I do not think like the English King. Perhaps, if Katherine had not fought him, the King of England would have been grateful and thus kept their daughter's title."

"But it also has to do with love, doesn't it? As long as the King remained in love with his wife, she was safe," Margaret observed, "Yet when he fell in love with his mistress, he discarded his wife."

"I am unsure if he knows what love is. Absolute power has corrupted him, turning him into the tyrant that you have described him to me. But you are correct in assuming, as long as your husband loves you, your position will be safe, given that you have provided him with at least a living heir or that he does not care. The latter would be rather unlikely," Anne agreed. She truly believed that Henry had loved her in the past but she had loved him more and had gotten burnt, yet there were times when she felt unsure of herself. Did Henry ever love her? If he had, how could he find it in himself to bring about such misery to a woman he claimed to have violently loved?

"Then Mother, I must make my husband fall in love with me, and not simply just be a good wife," concluded the Princess, "Being the Princess of France, it is my privilege to receive the best of marriage matches but it will be up to me to keep it."

Anne smiled, "I don't wish to scare you. The fates of Henry VIII's wives are rather an oddity in our world. He has made quite a scandal of it across Europe. You will not face such drastic turns as that of his wives, but there is much to be learned for their history."

The conversation was interrupted as a servant entered and bowed, "Your Majesty, Your Highness, His Majesty the King has asked for your presence for supper."

Anne nodded, "Very well, we will continue another time."

* * *

_**December 25**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

The mood in the chamber was light and warm as the children played with their presents. As the boys made some noise with their wooden swords and shields on one side of the room, Princess Margaret had found herself a nice cozy spot and started to read her new books. The Dauphin and Dauphine were seated close to the Princess. While Catherine busied herself with some needle work, Henri was scribbling away on a piece of parchment.

On the other side of the room, the King and Queen were sitting beside each other by the fire having a quiet conversation of their own. Little Prince Francois, who had just been recently fed by his nurse, was sleeping quite contently in his mother's arms. The noise from his brother and his brother's friends seemed to do nothing to him.

"Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?" King Francis asked his wife quietly. The Queen was merely a little more than three months along in her pregnancy and had not shown any outward indications of her conditions physically, save for she had started to wear looser gowns.

Anne shook her head, "I don't know," she never claimed to know the sex of the child anymore. She had been so certain once that Elizabeth was a boy, but she had been proven wrong and it had cost her dearly. This was of course no longer the case as in France she was never under any pressure to produce heirs to the throne (at least not directly). "Do you want a girl or a boy?"

Francis smiled, "Both?" he laughed at his wife's expression of horror as she imagine giving birth to two children at once; "I suppose I would wish for a daughter." The King's statement was followed by a rather sad glance at Princess Margaret who was still deeply absorbed by her book.

Anne understood. Princess Margaret was to marry soon, and the King could not help but feel saddened at the future loss of his daughter's presence, "A Princess Louise then," she recalled had Francois been a girl, they would have named her after Francis's mother.

"Princess Louise of France," the King repeated, testing out the sound, "I like it, a Princess as beautiful as her mother."

"There you are with the flattery again," Anne mock chided Francis.

The King's expression turned solemn as he pretended to be hurt, "But Madame I only speak the truth. Sugary words are beneath me!"

Anne laughed, "What if it is a boy? Have you thought of a name?" She would never have dreamed of having this conversation with Henry. To the King of England, all his children, before they were born, were always his sons. But this was a key point wasn't it? Francis was _not_ Henry and his actions so far had proven this fact. However, he was a King, she could simply not afford to let her guard down. Bringing feelings and emotions into this mix would be putting herself at risk for betrayal. Yet in the time that they have spent together, she found that she did place her trust in him and their interactions were strangely comfortable and had a sense of natural ease. They were friends, but the dynamic between her and Francis was quite different than that with Brosse, another whom she considered a friend. So what were they to each other? What was he to her? Their history, their identities and their associations made their relationship quite hard to define and certainly complex.

Francis tilted his head, "Well, I thought you would have some suggestions. The last couple generations of the French royal family have been mostly Francois, Charles, and Henri. We have one of each on that note."

"What about Louis?" suggested Anne, "I believe you had a great grandfather by that name, Louis I, Duke of Orleans."

He nodded the laughed, "Louise and Louis…somehow I find that we are rather uncreative."

"Most names are uncreative," Anne reminded him, "Think of how many Margarets there are in European royal families alone."

"I suppose you have a point," the King agreed. He placed a hand on Anne's stomach, there was barely any suggestion of a bump for now, "If it is a girl, I shall have to find a good match worthy of our little girl. She's going to be a Queen, just like her sisters."

Anne arched a brow, "Are you so certain that it is a girl?"

Francis shook his head, "I suppose we will not know until his or her birth, but it does not hurt to think of some proper matches. If Mary, Queen of Scotland has a son, he could be a potential husband for our daughter, but Scotland is rather poor. Perhaps Prince Philip of Portugal, he is the heir to the throne. However, I hear he is rather sickly, so it is likely that his younger brother would take his place soon. Prince John Manuel is only a year and a half old and will be even closer to age with our daughter. But of course, if it is a boy, we will have to find a suitable wife for him as well."

"You have not found a suitable perspective bride for Francois yet, and only a bride to spite England for Charles," the Queen reminded him good naturedly.

Francis sighed, "I suppose you are right." He became momentarily distracted by the young boys' shouting in their mock duel, "Children seem to grow so fast. Before we know it, I will be teaching Francois and this little one here how to ride. If it is a boy, it may have to be Henri who teaches him how to joust. I am not as young as I used to be."

Anne smiled, "But still young enough to dream of the future." Dreams were important, it gave their lives a meaning, a goal and something to look forward to.

There were a few moments of silence as they just watched the children play. It was a bit of a duel with Prince Phillip heading one side and Charles the other. Their playmates were split by their choosing. Despite the Spanish Prince being older by four years, it did appear that neither side had an advantage for the two boys had made their teams evenly matched for the purpose of making the game more interesting.

The air in the room was quite warm despite the cold December weather outside the palace. For the Royal family, this was a time of peace and everything had serene warmth to it. The Christmas spirit had made everyone quite spirited and for once, on a day like this, there were no politics and ambition, no worries of the future temporarily. There was just a thin layer of soft contentment wrapped around everyone.

* * *

_**December 28**__**th**__**, 1538, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

Queen Anne and Princess Margaret watched bemusedly as the young Prince Charles rubbed his eyes tiredly. The three of them had enjoyed an informal dinner together. Afterwards, it did not take much prompting from the young boy before they began to play a game of cards with Charles's vivid imagination making up the rules along the way. To her and Margaret's surprise they had rather enjoyed the game despite it being a bit childish. Eventually, it seemed the little boy was worn out due to the excitement of the activities and a nap was suggested by his Nurse.

Charles was rather unhappy with the idea of the nap for he would rather continue playing, a nice break from his tutors, but he was too tired to protest. Seeing the grumpy expression on her stepson, Anne rose from her seat and knelt down to his level, gently placing a few stray hairs back in place, "You can always come back to play after your nap. Your Father planned to have another family supper tonight as well." She understood how the Prince felt. Royal children often lived away from their parents so each time they came to court, they valued very second they spent with either parent. This thought brought warmness to Anne's heart, for it meant that Charles truly accepted her as his new mother.

The Prince brightened at the prospects immediately, "Thank you, Mama," he placed a quick kiss on Anne's cheek.

Anne smiled, "Have good nap, Sweetheart."

She motioned for the Nurse to step forward, who curtsied, "Your Majesty," and a "Your Highness" to Margaret before escorting the Prince out of the chamber. Anne smiled to herself; she found that it was truly enjoyable to spend time with the children. They were not old enough to be corrupted by the ambitions of Courtiers and their innocence was refreshing from the cut-throat environment of Court.

She rose slowly from her position and took her seat opposite Princess Margaret. One of her ladies brought out a blanket and offered it to her, while another offered a similar one to Margaret. Anne took the thin blanket and placed it in her nap gratefully, she was beginning to think it was a bit cold. A servant placed more timber in the fire. Finally, Lady Francoise de Laval also commonly known as Francoise de Foix, brought fresh warm drinks and filled both of the royal ladies goblets silently. No one spoke until the mother and daughter were left in peace again.

"The courtiers say that she was my father's old official mistress," the Princess stated as she watched the Lady Francoise's retreating back disappear out of the chamber.

Anne nodded, "That is correct." There was no point is denying a fact that everyone knew full well. The only reason that the Princess would be unaware of it would be because she did not often stay at court.

Despite what the English and other European courts may say of the French Court, in its free liaisons, it was not the case. Queen Claude had run a strict and virtuous household. The women who became mistresses were often shunned. Anne's sister, Mary, had been one of those women and the Queen had made her displeasure known. Scandalous behaviors were to be kept quiet in public. The King had respected his wife's wishes. He had mistresses of his own, but he had also usually been discreet. Queen Claude knew of Francoise's position as the official mistress, but Francoise was also quite aware that she was only a mistress.

The Princess looked torn as she struggled with her next question, "Is she…Is she still Father's mistress?" Margaret did not wish to offend her step-mother. She knew that many women were upset when their husband's took a mistress. Her father took mistresses as she had come to understand, and looking back on it, this was perhaps the reason why her mother had been unhappy so often. Yet every time she saw her step-mother and her father together, even she, inexperienced in the areas of love, could see how fond his father was of his wife. It was hard to imagine her father with a mistress when her step-mother is sitting in front of her.

Anne smiled at the young girl's concern, "No, she is not," she took a sip of her drink, letting the warm liquid travel down her throat lowly before speaking again, "But there is something to be learned by her situation. She was a mistress of the King, yet she had no political sway for she did not have the mentality for it."

"Then she is not dangerous to the Queen's position," Margaret concluded.

Anne nodded, "Under normal circumstances, she would not be. However, if she had ambitious family and you had enemies, she could be. You must never underestimate your opponents for it may be the last mistake you could make." The Queen sighed as she thought of how she had underestimated Jane. She had thought it was a fling, and that the girl had been too stupid to be of any political threat. She had not thought that a woman like Jane Seymour would ever be able to take the position of Queen from her, and it was mistake that Anne would not make again. It was a mistake she also did not wish Margaret to make.

"Then what shall I do if my husband takes a mistress?" asked the young Princess in concern, "How do I get rid of the woman? Do I just dismiss her from court?" She blinked a few times, "But my natural mother…She never dismissed Lady Francoise."

"I had once thought that the best way to get rid of mistress would be to send her away, but that notion is misconstrued for that is forgetting our husbands are Kings. As Kings they have the power to bring them back, to force our hands. Sending the mistress away does nothing but upset the men and thus bringing their anger upon ourselves. Don't forget, men often fancy themselves in love with their newest conquest. They like to play the knight in shining armor. If you make the mistress appear to be the damsel in distress, then they will feel even more protective of her," she spoke evenly, although her mind was in the past.

It had been her mistake to make Jane Seymour appear even more pathetic as she endured such _hardships _from the Queen. Yet she had been so angry, her emotions impossible to control. No doubt, even with hindsight of today, she would have lashed out at the Seymour wench. These ideologies she was teaching Margaret sounded well on paper, but they were hardly useful in the heat of the moment when no one had a clear head.

"But if I don't send them away, they remain a threat at my Court," the Princess pointed out.

Anne nodded, "Make your husband love you and he will send the woman away on his own. If he loves you, he will not have a mistress." If she believed what she was teaching, would it not mean that Henry did not love her for he had many mistresses? Or perhaps he fell out of love with her. And what about her love for him? The conversation with Adrien came back to her again as it often did recently. Had she already fallen out of love with him after all the cruelty she had endured from him? Was she only holding on to something that didn't exist simply because she didn't want to cheapen a love that she had once thought was strong enough to withstand anything? She was just so confused lately, the more she thought on Adrien's words, the more confused she became.

Margaret frowned, "How do I make him fall in love with me? What if he is in love with his Mistress?"

"There is always the chance that he may fall in love with another, but you have an advantage for you are his wife," Anne brought herself out of her thoughts to answer her stepdaughter's questions, "Or perhaps it would be a disadvantage…Men always want what they could not have," the Queen smiled at the Princess, "If you want him to love you then you must observe him. Watch for what type of women he wants and play your part well. Many men do find intelligence attractive and it lasts far longer than one's beauty."

Margaret nodded in understanding.

* * *

_**January 15**__**th**__**, 1539, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"Your Majesty," Thomas Cranmer bowed to the King of England.

The King barely looked up, his concentration rested on the letter in front of him. "Is there something wrong, Your Majesty?" Cranmer asked after a few moments of silence.

King Henry VIII nodded. There were dark circles under his eyes and he appeared very tired, "I wish to seek some guidance from you." His voice was low, almost a little hoarse.

Cranmer nodded immediately, "Of course, I will do my best to be of service to Your Majesty."

The King still did not look up, "She is pregnant again…She just had a son."

The Archbishop of Canterbury blinked in confusion, "I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but who is with child?"

Henry didn't respond only throwing the letter he had been holding in his hands to Cranmer. The Archbishop picked the letter up and quickly scanned the contents before comprehension dawned upon him, "The Queen of France is with child again," he stated once he folded the letter up again.

The King nodded solemnly, his eyes rather blank as if his mind was elsewhere, "Francis is going to have another son…a fourth healthy son," he snapped his eyes to Cranmer, who felt slightly taken aback by the intensity of them. They looked a little bloodshot as well, making the Archbishop briefly wonder if the King perhaps had a little too much to drink, "And do you know _who_ the _Queen_ of France is?" The King's expression seemed to be torn like he didn't know whether he should laugh or cry.

Cranmer blinked again. He had not accompanied the King to France and everyone had been tight lipped about the affairs of France, as a result, _logically_ he should not be aware of anything odd about the French Queen, "Master Cromwell once mentioned that she was a country girl by the name of Anne de Pisseleu."

The King laughed, almost hysterically, "_Anne de Pisseleu_," he muttered, letting the words roll off his tongue, "She is the whore…the whore, Anne Boleyn."

"Anne Boleyn…" the Archbishop's voice seemed to be disbelieving, "But the Lady Marquess of Pembroke died two years ago, Your Majesty."

Henry nodded, "She died…yet she didn't."

"I don't understand, Your Majesty. Are you feeling alright?" Cranmer asked in concern.

Henry laughed again, it sounded more like a cry than a laugh though, "She defied me again. Someone helped her escape from the tower, likely her father. I saw her by Francis's side when we went to France. I confronted her, but she was as stubborn as she always has been, but it is her," his mood suddenly changed from solemn to furious, "_What was I to her_? She has betrayed me and England utterly."

At times like this, it was truly best to flatter the King, "Your Majesty is popular amongst the ladies…The Marquess…it is to my belief that the Marquess of Pembroke truly loved Your Majesty." He did wonder if this was the best time to bring this matter up. It could be said that during moments of emotional turmoil, the human mind was at its most vulnerable. If the King was able to accept what he was saying, allowing the seed to be planted in his heart, then this was the best moment. Yet it could also swing the other way for the King was simply unpredictable these days.

The King scowled, "Loved? I hardly think the whore knows what love is. If she loved me, then she would never have betrayed me with those men!" The words came out rather like a hiss.

"I…" began the Archbishop but paused as he thought of his next words. Was it really too soon to bring up the subject that he wished to discuss? "Did Your Majesty ever speak to Master Kingston?"

The King's angry expression quickly turned into one of confusion, "Master Kingston? From the Tower? What does he have to do with anything?"

Thomas Cranmer nodded, "He was present when I went to the Tower to receive the Marquess's last confessions."

"Those were hardly her last confessions as she is well and alive now," the King muttered darkly.

Cranmer shook his head, "But at the time it was given, the Marquess had firmly believed that she was to die the very next day. I saw it in her eyes, fear and acceptance."

"She has always been a good actress. She made me believe that she loved me," countered the King, yet Cranmer thought he heard something else in his voice. It was almost as if the King was still trying to convince himself about what type of a woman Anne Boleyn had been, but the little seed of doubt was there.

"It is still my belief that the Marquess loved Your Majesty," he repeated for the King's benefit, "At the time, she did not know she was pregnant and that her execution would be postponed. If she had not been so emotional that she upset the babe after her confession, then she would have likely been executed the next day. I must hazard a guess that the attempt to save her would not have been possible without the delay of her sentence caused by the new knowledge of her pregnancy. As a conclusion, her confession that night, can be seen as her last confession. It is a confession that she would have made with the mindset that she would lose her life the next day."

The King's brows furrowed and some annoyance could be seen on his face, "You have repeatedly tried to make the statement that her last confession to you is one that she would have made in her death, what is your point in doing so? What does it matter?"

Cranmer looked astonished at the King briefly, "Why, Your Majesty, it makes a world of difference. She asked Master Kingston to stay for her confession so that it may be made known to the world."

Henry blinked, "He must have spoken to Master Cromwell then. There was no point in alerting me what she had said. I had no desire to hear of how she had betrayed me."

Cranmer bit his lower lip, almost letting out a sigh of frustration. He was bound to keep his silence for it was a confession, which was why Queen Anne had asked Master Kingston to stay for he was allowed to say what he had heard. Yet, in a turn of events, the confession never made it into the ears of the King, a doing of Cromwell, no doubt. So this rather left him with a dilemma. Should he reveal the truth or perhaps suggest the King to ask Master Kingston? If the King asked Master Kingston and the man spoke the truth, he would confirm it with Cranmer himself. If Cromwell had bribed the man, then there would be no truth to speak of. Then there was also the fact that uttering the truth might bring the King's wrath upon him for the King liked his denial and had refused any suggestions of the matter before.

To be honest, Archbishop could not pretend that he was a brave man. Indeed, if he had had the courage two year ago, he would not have gone against his conscience. When the charges were first brought against the Queen, he had told the King, 'She should not be culpable', but soon he was made quite aware that the Queen's cause was a lost one. He realized that he was vulnerable to the Queen's enemies due to his closeness with her, and as a result he made no serious effort to save her. He had convinced himself that there wasn't anything to be done. When the King asked for an annulment, he had granted it because he feared the King and his temper. Four men were already put to death due to it and it would hardly be a bother to the King and Cromwell to add him to the list.

He could never forget the pain that he brought to his mistress hours before her scheduled execution. Then a miracle happened, she had been pregnant. At the time, he thought the King would have spared her, and readily brought her back to the palace as the Queen had lost favor due to her miscarriages. He had naively believed that since she was pregnant the King would welcome her and the child back. In his moment of hope, he had even readied an acknowledgment of making a mistake in regards to the Queen's marriage to the King. But it was not to be for the news had came too late for the King had already convinced himself of her guilt and had been furious.

He had been at Lambeth Palace when he had heard of the fire at the tower. He still remembered that feeling of utter loss when he had believed her to be forever gone from the world. Later, a Scottish friend, Alexander Ales found him in the gardens weeping uncontrollably. In that moment of sorrow, he had defied the wishes of the King for the first time, addressing her as Queen, remarking to Alexander that 'She who has been the Queen of England on earth will today become a Queen in heaven.' He had felt so utterly useless and cowardly, being able to do nothing for her except to shed tears of regret.

The Archbishop sighed, in his heart, he knew he was left with only one choice. He really wasn't much braver than before, but he knew that God had granted him a chance to clean his conscience. Perhaps this opportunity was given by The Lord, so that the King could finally discover the truth. He could not rely on Kingston to be any braver than he, himself was, so he made the choice. It was a gamble to tell the King what he did not wish to hear, but there was a good chance that the King would see the truth in his words, not to mention in these two years, the King had come to value and trust him much more than before.

"The Marquess confessed her innocence before God," his simple sentence caused the King to snap his head in his direction, eyes wide and unbelieving, "She confessed that she had not treated Your Majesty with the respect that a wife ought to treat her husband and King. She confessed her acceptance of her fate as it was Your Majesty's wish. She confessed upon the damnation of her soul that she had never sinned against Your Majesty. The Marquess seemed to have believed that in death she would find peace."

The King looked like Cranmer had just slapped him in the face. He blinked several times, unable to utter a single syllable. The archbishop was rather unsure if the King would believe him, but as the silence stretched and he saw the conflicted emotions in the King's eyes, he knew at the very least, he had finally planted the seed of doubt into the King's mind. The King could no longer hide behind his denial for now; someone had finally suggested to his face that Anne Boleyn may have been innocent.

As he sat there, Henry felt he had suddenly gone deaf. It was just uncomfortable silence that surrounded him, enveloped him, almost threatening to suffocate him. Yet at the same time he couldn't make himself speak and break the silence. It had finally dawned on him why Cranmer had spent such a great deal of time stressing this was Anne's last confession before she was supposed to face the Lord. As her last Confession, if she wanted to save her soul at all she would have confessed to any crimes she had committed. It was unheard of for her to confess her innocence unless she was…the thought felt like a heavy weight was placed upon him…unless she was actually innocent. It meant that she had never betrayed him and that was the reason that God had blessed him with a son.

He needed more to drink. These thoughts terrified him in inexplicable ways.

* * *

_**January 16**__**th**__**, 1539, England**_

"Madame," the Duke of Norfolk bowed to the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk. As his stepmother, it was an act of respect and because he was in need of her help.

"You are here for the girl then?" the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk asked in a rather faked pleasant tone. It was no secret that the old Duchess was not a friend of her stepson; their relationship was rather strained at times. However, Thomas Howard was a popular and influential man at Court. The Duchess recognized power and ambition and thus here they were, in a business deal of sorts.

The Duke nodded, "Yes, but I wish to see the girl first."

The Dowager Duchess smiled coldly, "Of course. She is inside."

The two walked in relative silence as they entered the manor. They did not have much to say to each other. Finally, it was Norfolk who broke the silence for curiosity's sake, "Is the girl intelligent?"

The Duchess didn't respond immediately as if she was evaluating the girl in her mind, "She is intelligent, I suppose, but she lacks in wisdom. She is frivolous and young, but the most beautiful in the bunch and lively. I do not believe she is suitable for the task you have in mind. She is simply too immature to handle the situation."

The Duke chuckled and feigned ignorance, "I have no idea what task Madame is implying. I merely wish to extend a hand, to the daughter of a most unfortunate brother."

The Duchess dropped the subject. She knew full well that her stepson would not share his pet project idea with her and thus felt no need to push. In all honestly, she was quite aware of his plans for the girl. She may be away from Court, but she still could hear the gossip.

It didn't take long before they arrived at the Duchess's study. The girl in question was already inside and rose from her seat quickly in a curtsy, "Sir, Madame."

Norfolk nodded in response, studying the young creature before him. She had long blond hair that was a few shades darker than the Queen's. She was rather slim and petite. Her face was young and pretty. From her looks, she would no doubt draw the attention of the Court. In her eyes, he could see that she already knew the likes of men (no doubt due to the lack of propriety in the Dowager Duchess's household) but there was an odd sense of naivety about the girl, perhaps because of her age. The Duchess had already informed him that the girl could read and write, but from the silliness in the girl's air, he had no doubt that there would be much to teach the girl before she could debut. "What is your name?"

The girl smiled, "Catherine Howard, Uncle."

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_

Anne's teachings with the Princess Margaret are only lessons from her experiences. Whether they are right or wrong really depends on the situation.

And I just want to say, "Mwahahahahahah to you Henry VIII." Sorry, I have been waiting for him to stop hiding behind denial and make the connection that Anne was innocent.

A note to Gloriannafan and those who have similar worries: Even if Francis doesn't love Anne anymore, he would not and could not simply get rid of Anne. He does not have the same kind of power that Henry has nor does he have the same personality. In history, even when France broke away from the Spanish's control somewhat, he never got rid of Queen Eleanor, and he pretty much hated her. Anne has the backing of the common people and her own faction at court, so unless everyone turns against her in France, she does not have to worry about Francis getting rid of her (especially as she has a son, a legitimate heir to the throne). As for a French Empire would leave nothing for William and Elizabeth…I can point out that France isn't that strong, Anne or not. Just because Francis and Anne have the ambition, a major factor will rest on how strong and capable the military leaders are (Francis is not that capable seeing how much he lost in history). Napoleon was brilliant in his military career and even he could not take England. Then again, I make no promises in how the story will progress in the empire aspect simply because I haven't made up my mind completely. France will certainly be stronger than before though.

And so I gave you the "Happy" in this chapter. Anne and Francis's relationship is still pretty much status quo, but Anne is starting to doubt her feelings.

Finally, leave me a _**review**_! Questions, speculations, constructive criticisms are very much welcome or just let me know if you liked the chapter!

Until next time,

Cruelangel


	13. Chapter 12: Loss

**Title: Nemesis**

**Author: **Cruelangel101

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing...Not the characters, not the show, and certainly not the production company…can anyone own history?

**Pairings:** Anne/Francis I and Anne/Henry VIII (Anne-past/left over feelings; Henry-one sided)

So I had a crazy two years, and only now do I actually have some time to actually write. Then when I tried to get into my account, I realized that I could remember neither the email that I had used, nor the password. When I finally guessed the email user name, I had no access to my email… long story short, after navigating and trying different things for days, I finally got myself in. During the process, I had promised myself that if I ever got back into my account, I would publish what I had planned for the original story. Chapter 12, 13, and 14 had been planned two years ago, and chapter 12 had been half written. I rewrote a few parts a few times, and while its not perfect, at least chapter 12 is done.

In addition, in my haste, I did not have the chapter beta-ed (nor could I attempt, since I still have no access to my email). Again I apologize for the delay and I hope you enjoy the new chapter! Don't forget to let me know what you think!

**Nemesis…the Greek goddess of revenge…**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Loss**

_Loss can be devastating, tearing one's world apart, bring a soul to the bottom of hell. Yet at times, losses could also bring about a new beginning. _

_**January 20**__**th**__**, 1539, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"_Henry," her voice was soft, almost like a whisper from behind him._

_He turned immediately for he had been expecting her, after all she came to him so often now. She looked exactly the same as she had in France. Her face did not retain the youth from when they had first met for that had been so long ago, but she had aged gracefully, retaining her beauty. Her beautiful raven locks fell loosely down her back, and on her head rested a large diamond tiara declaring her status as a Queen. Her eyes a deep blue sparkled in the dimly lit room, they always did shine like stars in the midnight sky. She was dressed in a dark blue almost black gown that was enhanced with flashes of silver fabric, in the French style of course as she always favored; "Anne, why are you here again?" His voice felt tired, strained and almost resigned. _

"_To see Elizabeth and William," Her response was always the same and on cue in the background he saw their daughter and son playing together. William could now walk as he chased his older sister around the room, albeit he stumbled occasionally. Their laughter was pure, ringing and echoing in the chamber. They watched the children briefly before she spoke up again, "I am so proud of them," he could see the pride aglow on her face, "You must be very proud of them too." She smiled at the scene._

_Henry nodded, "I am. I am very proud of them. But from time to time, they remind me of you, and what you did to me." He, like her always said the same words, he knew what she would say in response, and he just wished that he didn't believe her._

_Anne's smile melted off of her face, "I did nothing to you. I was innocent. All the accusations against me were false," her eyes held sorrow, "I thought you knew…I thought you knew but just didn't care. We were on the edge of a golden world, but you threw it all away…Was it all worth it? Four innocent men…you have condemned your soul, Henry…" He turned from her as tears began to form._

_He heard her footsteps walking away. "Anne please don't…" He snapped his head back to her. He wanted her to stay, but there was no Anne, she had left him again. The laughter of the children was now gone as they stood before him perfectly still, their eyes fixed on him. He held out a hand tentatively towards them, "Elizabeth? William?"_

_They didn't move, just continued to stare at him, "Mama was innocent," Elizabeth's voice was young but accusing._

_He dropped his hand at the rejection, "I didn't know. I swear, I didn't know." He found his voice rather raspy and solemn._

_He wanted to approach his children, but before he could move, Elizabeth, holding onto William's hand, had already led the little boy out of the room. There was not even one glance back._

_Henry felt himself panic, "No, wait," he chased after them, but beyond the doors of the chamber there was only nothingness._

Henry VIII, King of England, sat up with a yell, sweat glistening over his body. His breathing was heavy as his mind adjusted to the change. It had been a dream, a dream that had started before his trip to France. It had evolved though, Anne and their children, aging to what they were in reality. The dream haunted him nearly every night since his conversation with Master Cranmer. Each time it felt more vivid and more detailed and each time he woke with a sense of loss and great unease.

"Your Majesty?" Jane's voice came from beside him softly, "Are you alright?"

He felt himself nodded, "I'm fine, go back to sleep sweetheart." He lay down again, staring at the ceiling, wishing he had slept in his chambers alone. He did not wish to face the quizzical expression on his wife's face.

"Was it that dream again?" Jane asked.

Henry didn't answer her question, instead he turned on his side, placing his back toward her, "I'm tired, good night Jane." His eyes didn't close though, only staring into the space before them. He knew it would be awhile before sleep would find him again.

Jane stared at her husband, her King's back. She knew he was not asleep but she said nothing, for it was obvious he did not wish to speak about it. Yet nevertheless, she knew what he was dreaming about, it was about _her. _She had heard him call out, 'Anne, please don't…' almost as if he was begging her to come back. She didn't understand it…what brought about this change? He had been so angry after their trip to France, and now, it was almost as if the anger had drained out of him and something else suddenly started to bother him.

As she continued to think of a reason, she suddenly felt her heart start to race. She thought back to a conversation she had had with her brothers. Anne Boleyn was likely innocent from the charges against her. Was it possible that someone had finally made the King aware of that fact, like her brother had done for her? But who would be brave enough to risk the anger of the King in order to bring up such a matter? If the King believed it, then it came from someone he trusted. Was it a remaining friend of the Harlot? Henry Percy? No, the King didn't trust him that much. Then who was it?

* * *

_**January 24**__**th**__**, 1539, Palais du Fontainebleau, France **_

"Mama! This is for you," young Prince Charles face showed nothing but eagerness as he presented the gift he had made to his stepmother. His sister, the Princess Margaret, rolled her eyes from behind, mock disapproval for her younger brother's childish antics.

Anne smiled. Although Charles and Margaret were not her children in blood, she had come to view them as nothing different than Elizabeth. This was such a contrast against her relationship with her past stepdaughter. Mary had always viewed her as a whore and an enemy. While Anne wished to say that she had no contribution to the disastrous relationship between them, she could not. Yes, she had reached out to the girl initially, but after Mary's cold refusal she had stopped caring. Yet it wasn't cold indifference between them either. Mary's refusal to acknowledge her position had angered Anne. She started to view Mary as a threat. In the period leading up to her stay in the tower, there was a dark time where she had become so paranoid of Mary and Katherine that she wanted them murdered. The irony of course was that with Katherine alive, Henry would not have moved to set her aside.

With Margaret and Charles it was completely different. They had come to adore her almost instantly. Their sweetness had been touching and especially welcoming at a time when she was missing her own children. So she doted on them as if they were Elizabeth and William, giving them a mother that had been cruelly stolen from them by death.

Anne, the Queen of France, knelt down to her step-son's level and took the small portrait into her hands. It was nothing comparable to a court painter, but for a child of Charles's age, it was a surprisingly well done picture of a rose, "Thank you sweetheart."

"Do you like it?" the young boy asked quickly. Anne had noticed that Charles and even Margaret often thought her approval and acknowledgement in many things. Or perhaps, 'her approval' was an incorrect statement. Charles and Margaret lost their mother and were often far from court. It was only natural for a child to seek their parents' attention.

Anne laughed, "Sweetheart, of course I love it."

Prince Charles beamed. Anne was glad that she could bring such easy joy to her step children. She did wonder though, who would give Elizabeth and William attention and approval? The thought brought a sharp pang to her heart.

* * *

_**January 30**__**th**__**, 1539, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"Your Majesty," Master Cranmer bowed in greeting as he stepped in front of the King of England. The last time he had spoken to the King, the King had been drunk due to his disappointment in the matter of the Queen of France's new pregnancy. It had only been fifteen days since he had revealed Queen Anne's innocence to the King, but already, he could see the difference it made in the King's appearance alone. There were dark circles under the King's eyes, he was more irritable with everyone, and there were a general appearance of tiredness in his appearance and the way he carried himself.

King Henry acknowledged Cranmer with a wave of his hand, "I wish to speak to you on the matter we previously discussed."

Master Cranmer nodded in response, "Of course, Your Majesty."

A moment of silence then followed as the King attempted to gather his thoughts and Cranmer did nothing to interrupt the silence. Finally the King of England's eyes seemed to focus as he looked up at the man that he had raised from basically nothing, "If what you say is true, it still changes nothing. She was never my wife."

Deep in his heart, Master Cranmer would have liked to say otherwise, but one simply did not go against the King. But then what would have been the point of telling the King of Queen Anne's innocence, if nothing changes. He had made a promise to her and he fully intended on keeping it. They had formed a plan, but it was up to him to initiate it. He would not fail her a second time. However, the King's moods have never been predictable especially when it came to the woman that he tore apart his kingdom for. Any mention of the woman around the King must be done carefully and skillfully to avoid bring the King's wrath upon his head. Thus Master Cranmer remained quite still. Besides, the King didn't seem to be in need of a response.

In this, Cranmer was correct in his assessment, as King Henry didn't even notice the silence in the chamber, and quickly started speaking again, "Yes, she was never my wife…" he repeated. The King looked up, making eye contact with Cranmer, "It doesn't matter if she was sinful with all those men or not. Jane is my true wife. God has blessed us with a son…" he paused as if in deep thought, "but…Edward has never been a healthy child. Is this a punishment from God?" His eyes were pleading Cranmer to tell him that was not the case. Ever since Edward's birth, he had feared for the boy's life. He had not been a healthy boy by any standard of comparison, yet nevertheless the boy was his only legitimate son. But, no matter how hard he tried to sooth his own fears, he couldn't help but wonder whether Edward, meek like Jane, would ever become the strong King that he had prayed for and England needed.

Cranmer hesitated. He could not directly state any fault with Queen Jane or her son, who currently held the position of Prince of Wales. But he would certainly try to direct the conversation in favor of the poor children whom Queen Anne was forced to leave behind. The only remaining question was how he could choose his words so that the King will feel that he came to the final conclusion himself.

The King noticed the hesitation, yet seemed to continue his thoughts unfazed by the silence, "Why would God punish us? It was the Court that found Anne and those men guilty. It was the Court that decided their punishment. Even if she was innocent, it was a jury of peers that decided their fate. It had not been my fault."

Cranmer sighed, when the King wished to be in denial, he always found a reason to place the blame elsewhere. Instead of reminding the King of the Lady's last confession, he pointed out another fact that the King seemed keen to forgetting, "Perhaps your Majesty, if the lady was never your wife; she could not have committed adultery against the crown." He chose his words carefully. It was short and to the point.

The expression the King gave Cranmer would have been comical if the situation had not been so serious. He stared unblinkingly at Cranmer for a few moments, opening his mouth to speak several time, but no sound ever came out. He looked like a fish out of water. Finally, he sighed, closed his eyes, and rubbed his brow in a tired manner. If Anne had never been his wife, then he couldn't even pretend that she had betrayed him by being with the other men. He would be forced to admit that he had signed the death warrant of four innocent men. It was a fact that as the King of England, he was not so fond of admitting. But it really wasn't his fault was it? He had been led to believe that Anne had been his wife at the time of the trials. Anne had been condemned as his wife. The Court had found all of them guilty, and he had believed them.

If Anne's confession was to be believed, then she had not lain with those men. She had never betrayed him. At least she had not betrayed him initially, after all how could he forget that she was currently being paraded around the French court as Francis's Queen consort. Of course, if he truly believed that Anne was not his wife, then in truth she was free to marry whomever she liked, no matter how Henry wished otherwise.

He also couldn't keep that nagging voice out of his head. He was the one that insisted Cranmer find their marriage to be untrue. He was the one that insisted that Cranmer told her that Elizabeth was going to be a bastard. Why had he done it? She was going to die, why make a bastard out of the children they had together?

The answer wasn't as simple as he had wished it to be. It wasn't simply because he had believed their marriage was untrue. While, he had believed they were never married, he had also wanted it out of spite. She had been his. The thought of her with other men made his blood boil and he had wanted her head for it. He had been so angry with her that he wanted to do everything he could to bring her as much pain as she had brought him when she betrayed their bed.

Cranmer continued, "but of course Your Majesty could not be blamed for such a tragic affair." The King turned his attention back to Cranmer, willing him to continue. "Your Majesty had thought it was a marriage of good faith at the time. You would have signed the verdict the court had given. It was not until after the death warrants have been signed, that the marriage was found to untrue." Inwardly, Cranmer smiled; he had planted the first seeds. In the years with the King, he had learned quickly that King Henry VIII was not someone who liked to admit that he was in the wrong. It was much better to give the King another opening, a reason to find no fault in his own actions.

Henry nodded. Of course, he had no reason to believe that the court would find an innocent woman guilty. Yet, the truth of the matter was that the Court had been wrong, and they had convicted an innocent woman. While she had not been his wife, she had been a woman that had bared him two healthy children. He would have been grateful to her under other circumstances, but now, those courtiers who had presided over her case, had placed him in an awful position. As long as the official name of the French Queen is Anne de Pisseleu then his son and daughter will believe that he had their mother executed. Could he hide her supposed innocence from them? Would his conscious allow him to?

* * *

_**February 2**__**nd**__**, 1539, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"Your Majesty," Master Cromwell bowed to the King. He could not shake the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. No one liked to the bearer of bad news to the King of England, especially lately. The King had stayed mostly isolated since his return from France, and his mood remained unpredictable days after his return.

The King barely looked up at his chancellor but nodded briefly in acknowledgement. The past few days had been rough. He was no longer in a drunken stupor, and his mood had calmed significantly, yet he still felt turmoil every time he thought of the situation. He couldn't brush off the feeling of annoyance when he regarded Cromwell, after all, hadn't it been the chancellor who had promised him that the court had found her guilty? How had he conducted the investigation if she had truly been innocent? Why hadn't Cromwell mentioned anything about clearing her of the charges when their marriage was found to be untrue? Now he was placed in his awkward position, "What is it?" he asked softly.

Cromwell hesitated for a brief moment, fearing what the King would say when he heard the news. Yet, it was unavoidable news he had to deliver given his position, "The Emperor has stopped further negotiations for the marriage between Prince Edward and the Infanta Joanna."

"Why" the King asked wearily. In truth he already had a suspicion on the reason.

The chancellor sighed, "It appears that King Francis would like to marry his son, Charles, the Duke of Orleans to the Infanta. With the Prince of Austria still under imprisonment in France, the Emperor is hard pressed to refuse the King's offer. It is rumored that the Infante Phillip may be returned to the Emperor with the marriage alliance."

The King scowled fiercely. Francis had given no indication of any desire to initiate an alliance with the Emperor until recently. There could be only one reason for this recent change of mind. Francis was purposefully trying to spite him! "What are your plans to counter this?" he asked. With the French alliance falling apart, England needed to align with the Emperor against the rising French power. Under other circumstances, King Henry had no doubt his son, Edward, would have been the better choice. After all, Edward was destined to be King, while Charles was only a second prince. Infanta Joanna would be a Queen consort if she married Edward instead of only a duchess. Yet, as things were currently, the Emperor hardly had the best hand to negotiate.

Cromwell didn't really see much of a counter measure against the French King's new tactic. The Emperor would want his heir back and if the marriage of the Infanta and the French prince would return the Prince of Austria then he would surely accept. In fact, it may even be a double marriage alliance if the French Queen bore a daughter. Luckily, the chancellor was saved from giving an unwelcomed answer as the King came up with a solution himself. "If Francis had another more favorable marriage candidate for Charles, then the alliance with Spain would be abandoned."

Cromwell stared at the King in confusion, "A more favorable candidate?" Who could England persuade to offer a princess that was of higher standing than the Emperor's daughter?

The King didn't answer his chancellor's confusion; instead he dismissed the man with a wave of his hand. He had plans to make and people to interrogate.

* * *

_**February 8**__**th**__**, 1539, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"Lady Parker," the King regarded the woman in front of him coldly. She had given damning evidence against her husband and his sister. He wanted to know why.

The lady flinched under the King's gaze. Ever since the execution of George Boleyn, she had been uneasy. It didn't help matters, that every once in awhile she kept finding his or Anne's old possessions in her room. It was as if someone intended for her to never forget her past and what she had done. Now, the rumor was that Anne Boleyn was alive, and the Queen of France. No one had any doubt that France was rising to the height of European power and she shuddered to think what Anne would do in revenge. "Your Majesty," she curtsied nervously to the King.

"Your late husband," the King paused taking a moment to study the sudden change of expression on the lady's face. She had gone white, a look of terror creeping into her expression as she desperately tried to hide her feelings, "You had given testimony that George Boleyn had known his sister carnally. There is evidence that says otherwise." He held up hand to stop the lady from protesting, "I want to know why you lied to your King. Chose your words wisely my Lady, you have committed a crime that may be punished with your life." It didn't matter whether the lady had truly lied or not, but perhaps she would finally utter the truth if she thought her life was in danger.

Jane Parker nearly cried out in shock. Never had she thought the King would be the one that questioned her on the lies she had given, which sealed her awful husband's fate. It was no secret that the King had been looking for a way to get rid of his wife. Once the investigations had begun against Anne Boleyn, Jane had seen a rare opportunity to rid herself of the unhappy marriage and she seized it. "I…Your Majesty," she fell to her knees, tears forming in her eyes, "George…he…he had forsaken my bed."

Henry stared at the woman with confused eyes. This had all been over an affair? She had plotted her husband's death over an affair? It was almost comical, but she had not denied that she had lied…instead she was trying to find excuses for her lies.

The lady sobbed, "Your Majesty cannot understand…He…he…" she stumbled over her words, "He had forsaken our bed for…for another man". She has nearly hysterical when she finally finished her sentence.

The King's eyes widened in surprise. George Boleyn was committing sins not with his sister but another man? "Who?"

"Mark Smeaton," the name was said in a soft whisper.

He sighed…it was another name on the list that was accused, another two names that cleared her. Even worse, Smeaton had been the only one who had confessed. He had also been the only one from the accused list that had not been gentry and was thus subject to methods of torture. It took little imagination in what his officials could pry out of the man's lips with torture. "Lady Parker," he returned his attention to the woman before him, "If you value your life, you will speak to no one about our conversation today. You will return to your duties in the Queen's household." With that said, he left the woman sobbing on the floor. At least George Boleyn and Mark Smeaton had not been executed in vain. They had committed crimes that should have cost them their lives regardless of the actual crime they were charged with.

* * *

_**February 10**__**th**__**, 1539, Tower of London, England**_

"His majesty, the King!" the herald announced magnificently, and Thomas Boleyn rose to his feet quickly and bowed.

The King's arrival had been unexpected, at least not for a few more months. Boleyn had no doubt that the King of England had many questions, but the Earl had imagined that his fury from France would have prevented him from seeking any remaining family of this previous wife.

Henry nodded at the Earl, and waited for the chamber to cleared, before beginning his questioning. It had been a few days since his conversation with master Cranmer and in that time, he had slowly came to accept the fact that Anne had refused to admit her guilt in her last confession. "Your daughter," he began, still finding her name difficult to speak of, "She is alive." It was an obvious fact that the King of England had no doubt over, but he still wanted to hear a confirmation from the mouth of the man that was likely responsible for this turn of events.

There was no doubt which daughter the King referred to, but Thomas Boleyn didn't respond immediately. However, the King intending for a confirmation refused to allow the statement to go unacknowledged. Finally, the imprisoned Earl gave an answer that only brought a scowl to the King's face, "My daughter, Anne, is dead."

Henry had to restrain himself from shoving the old man against the wall, "Liar, I saw her in France with my own eyes. You had helped her escape," he accused fiercely.

Boleyn shook his head, "No, Your Majesty, my Anne is dead," before the King could protest again, he continued, "My daughter died to clear the way for the new Queen." He knew this statement would drain the King's next words.

There was a long moment of silence, before either party spoke again. To the King's credit, he held on to his temper, and surprisingly remained collected. He paced the room slowly as if absorbed in his thoughts before finally turning back to the Earl, "Anne was never my wife."

Thomas Boleyn wasn't completely sure how to respond to this statement. In France, Anne had wanted him to convince the King that their marriage was valid, thus not only legitimizing Elizabeth and William but also placing William first in line for the throne. However, the Earl was shrewd enough to realize that this was hardly the best approach to the current situation. Perhaps at a time before the King had discovered that Anne was alive or had Anne truly died in the tower, her wish could have been accomplished. However, now, things were completely different. The King was convinced that Anne was alive and this fact alone would cause him to never acknowledge their marriage had been valid. After all, if Anne's marriage to the King of England had been true, then in good conscious, the King cannot be truly married to the current Queen, thus making Edward a bastard. To make matters worse, Anne had married another. The King would never admit that his _wife_ was "married" to another. He could no longer have Anne executed for adultery as that was the same as admitting that their marriage had been true. The first time, he had planned to execute the woman, the people had questioned the charges once the royal marriage was annulled, a second execution attempt, would have made a laughing stock out of the King. In the end, Henry only had one option. If Anne had never been married to him, then his discarded mistress was free to marry whomever she pleased no matter how sour of a taste it left in his mouth.

It was obvious that the King had come to the same conclusion as the Earl. It had been a conclusion he had drawn before speaking the Earl, but he had to be sure that Thomas Boleyn would forever keep his silence. He had to be sure, that no man would challenge the rights of Edward, his trueborn son, by claiming that William was legitimate while Edward was not. For a few moments, he had thought to execute the man, in order to keep his silence, but that thought was eventually banished, as he had already killed enough innocent men in this whole sordid affair. Instead he was willing to offer a compromise, "Master Cranmer pointed out an important issue to me, a matter of good faith."

Boleyn could barely hide the smile from his face, but he managed to keep a neutral expression. It would not be wise to allow the King to think that everything had been orchestrated to lead him to this conclusion. The King continued, "At the time of my other children's conception, I had believed my marriages had been valid. As a result, I will be restoring the titles of Princess and Prince to Elizabeth, William…. and Mary."

The Earl had been surprised to hear Mary's name, but he almost immediately chided himself for not foreseeing this. If the King was to make use of the good faith clause, then of course it would include the Lady Mary as well as his own grandchildren, Elizabeth and William. He recollected himself quickly and muttered, "Your majesty is too generous."

Henry nodded, "Of course, _Princesses _Mary and Elizabeth and _Prince _William would not be ahead of the Queen's own children as they were not the fruit of a true marriage. It will be King Edward VI who will rule after me. Any suggestions other wise would constitute as high treason." He didn't keep the menace and warning out of his words. He would not have Boleyn make any attempts on his Edward. No, he will demand a secret oath from Boleyn, and he would make sure that Boleyn and his friends were carefully watched. They would be allowed no contact with the French. He would be forced to take secret of his daughter's survival to the grave.

After days of pondering on what to do, Henry had come to this decision for a few reasons. After reviewing different aspects of the case initially, he truly could not convince himself of her guilt. In the end, he had finally accepted her innocence. With her new position, he couldn't think of a better way to gain control of the Queen of France than through her own children. She could not protest against England's interests if her own children were in the line of succession and their lives in the hands of their father. Furthermore, he would gain three marriage prospects when he placed royal titles on his other children. He was quite certain that even if Francis preferred the Spanish Infanta, his current Queen would much prefer someone else be the Duchess of Orleans. This would be a test on just how much influence she had on her new husband and the French court.

Thomas Boleyn nodded. He had no intentions against the child Prince. He was sickly boy, and it would be no surprise to anyone if nature took her own course. This wasn't exactly what Anne had wanted, but under the circumstances it was much more than they could have hoped for. Perhaps now, if the King remained convince of Anne's innocence he could be persuaded to act kindly to his children to make up for the fact that he had cost them their mother.

* * *

_**February 11**__**th**__**, 1539, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Your Majesty," Princess Margaret dropped down in a curtsey in front of her stepmother.

Anne nodded from her chair, indicating that the princess should rise with her hand. Margaret had been having regular lessons with her step mother in preparation for her upcoming nuptials. Anne smiled at her stepdaughter as the princess sat down across from her, "Our lesson today will be on Queen Bona Sforza."

"My future mother-in-law," the princess stated matter of factly. She had heard at court of just how politically powerful the Polish Queen was rumored to be.

Anne nodded, "Yes, your future mother-in-law and the current Queen of Poland. It would be unwise to alienate the woman. You must show her great curtsey and politeness. You will be a foreign princess in their land, and until you have gathered enough political alliances of your own, you must play the obedient daughter-in-law.

Princess Margaret nodded, "Yes mother." Internally, she wondered exactly how she would gather political support of her own. Then she remembered the woman sitting in front of her. She was not only a Queen in name, but in deed held a significant power in the French Court. Only two years ago, this woman had been only the daughter of an unknown minor noble, but now, she held her father's heart, and the alliance of many courtiers.

Anne patted Margaret's hand fondly, "Do not worry too much my dear. The Polish Queen has been a supporter of the marriage alliance between France and Poland. She will welcome you, especially if you play your cards correctly."

* * *

_**February 18**__**th**__**, 1539, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"Jane!" Edward Seymour could barely hide the urgency from his voice as he and his brother walked into the Queen's chambers unannounced. However, the look of horror that the ladies in the room gave him caused him to falter slightly, and he quickly bowed stiffly, "Your Majesty".

Queen Jane's eyes widened at the initial tone of her brother. He rarely ever raised his voice at her. A feeling a cold dread began to spread into her stomach as she regarded his anxious expression. Something terrible must have happened. Knowing that her brother disliked speaking in front of her ladies, she quickly dismissed everyone save for her own sisters.

"What has happened?" Elizabeth asked quickly the moment that the room was cleared.

Edward scowled fiercely, "The King has released Thomas Boleyn from the towers."

The Queen and her sisters gasped, "He has forgiven him then?" Jane asked after a moment.

Edward nodded, "It is worse than that sister. It seems that Boleyn was able to convince the King to reinstate the Whore's children! The King has asked Parliament to give the title Princess and Prince to them."

Elizabeth and Dorothy gasped again, "How could he do that?"

Edward laughed at his sister's stupidity, "He is the King of England. He does what he desires, sisters. He has made use of the good faith clause and legitimatized Mary, Elizabeth and William Tudor." The little Duke twice over was finally given an official royal last name. He sighed tiredly, "But luckily, His Majesty had declared our Edward the Prince of Wale and his heir. The order of succession will place them after Jane's children." He turned back to his sister, "Jane you must understand the importance of giving the King a healthy Duke of York. We cannot have the whore's son only two steps away from the throne."

Jane nodded mutely. She had felt the pressure for a desired Duke of York ever since Edward's birth, but lately her husband had seemed so distracted that he had not come to her bed. How was she supposed to give the King a second son when he would not visit her?

"We cannot trust that Boleyn would not champion the interest of his own grand children," Thomas added, "Edward has never been healthy," he glared back at the horror struck looks that his sisters gave him in response to his implication, "It is the truth. What is to prevent Boleyn from making attempts on the Prince's life prematurely?"

"Thomas" Dorothy reprimanded her brother, "That would be treason! Prince Edward is the heir to the throne!"

Thomas Seymour laughed, "I would not put it past the man…without Prince Edward and a Duke of York, it will be his grandson that will be the new heir to the throne. It would be a price that he could give his life for."

"The King will never allow the child to become the Prince of Wales if it was at the cost of his legitimate son's life. He declared the child a Prince but he had not cleared his mother. The taint of Anne Boleyn still follows her children. If his grandfather was also convicted of treason, the people will never accept the child as King. Thomas Boleyn is not that stupid." Edward reasoned.

Jane let out a small breathe of relief. She could not bare it if any harm came to her precious little boy, but Edward's reasoning made sense. Perhaps it wasn't so terrible after all. Mary was also made a princess again. Wasn't this something she had strived forever since she had become Queen?

Edward continued, ignoring his brother's attempted retort, "But Thomas is correct in one matter. We cannot allow the Whore's child to be second in line for the throne. God forbid anything happens the Prince of Wales by natural causes, he would be the automatic successor," he turned to Jane, "Unless of course, His Majesty had a Duke of York."

Jane almost wanted to cry, "I…I am trying, but…his Majesty has not visited me." She finally uttered embarrassedly.

"Jane!" Edward shouted at his sister, "Then you must try harder! Try to please the King. He desires a son from you; there is no doubt about that. He has declared you his only legitimate wife."

Queen Jane nodded, "Yes, brother." She agreed with him wholeheartedly.

Thomas continued to frown, "And in the mean time, are we suppose to let the Harlot's child remain Edward's successor? He is behind the Prince of Wales for now, but what if the King changes his mind, and makes the boy the Prince of Wales because of his apparent health?"

"His Majesty would never do that!" protested Elizabeth.

Thomas shook his head, "there are no guarantees against such a notion. Edward would only be safe, if that bastard son of the harlot met an unfortunate…. accident," he said coolly.

The Queen and her sisters looked at their brother in horror, "No, Thomas, he is a child!" Queen Jane could never condone the harming of a child, no matter how much she disliked his mother. Edward Seymour, however, remained silent, giving his brother a calculating look.

* * *

_**February 20**__**th**__**, 1539, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Make way for the King," the Herald called out hurriedly as the King's court jogged after him into the Queen's chambers, "Make way for the King."

The Queen's outer chamber had been a chaotic mess the moment she had complained of feeling pain and her ladies soon found the Queen's skirts stained red. The panic that had ensued soon alerted the Royal Physicians and the news made it into the ears of the King. Knowing the King's attachment to the Queen, it had surprised no one that he had hurried halfway across the palace in a matter of minutes.

"Where is my wife?" King Francis bellowed as he entered the chamber, wasting no time in acknowledging the curtsies and bows from the occupants. The chaotic room froze and quieted momentarily at the sudden entrance of the King.

Lady Chabot, one of Anne's principle ladies and the wife of Admiral Philippe de Chabot, bravely stepped forward, "Your Majesty, the Royal Physicians are attending to Her Majesty now."

"What happened?" the King asked. There was sweat on his brows from his quick journey and his eyes were wide with anxiety and fear.

"Her Majesty complained of pains this morning. Her skirts had been stained with blood. The Royal Physicians have been waiting on Her Majesty ever since," no one wanted to be the bearer of bad news but someone had to answer the King.

"How long has the physicians been with her?" the King asked in concern.

"Nearly an hour, Your Majesty," the Lady answered back quickly.

The King didn't get to ask his next question to Lady Chabot as one of the Physicians finally quitted the Inner Chambers where two other Physicians and some of the Queen's ladies were still waiting on their mistress. Immediately, Ambroise Paré, a new Royal Surgeon appointed by Anne, bowed to the King with a solemn expression, "Your Majesty."

From the Doctor's expression, Francis already knew the result, but he still had to hear it put into words, "How is the Queen?"

Ambroise Paré was a young doctor, only nine and twenty. However, what he lacked in age, he did not lack in experience. Through the constant wars that he had experienced, he was an expert on battle field wounds. Through his own studies, he had also become an expert in obstetrical matters, becoming a teacher to midwives.

"We are very sorry, Your Majesty. We did everything we could, but we were unable to save the child in the Queen's womb. The Queen is in no immediate danger, however. She had been very distraught and I gave her some tonic to allow her to rest. She is asleep currently," Paré wasted no time in letting the King know the facts of the matter.

Francis nodded numbly. He had not felt prepared for this. Miscarriages were common enough, and he had shared the experience once with Claude. He had also experienced his share of losses in his children, Louise, Charlotte, Francis, and Madeline. Nevertheless, when he heard the news, it felt as if someone had just punched the air out of his lungs, "How did this happen? There was no warning."

Paré responded softly and calmly, "There often isn't much warning in these cases. Miscarriages are common especially in the first few months of pregnancy. The Queen's pregnancy had certain complications this time. Her Majesty is no longer a young woman and simply cannot recover from a birth so quickly. The stress of this new pregnancy had been just too much."

"Was the child…was the child developed enough for you to tell what it was?" the King asked after a few moments of silence where he could hardly put his words together.

Paré nodded, "From what we could see, Her Majesty would have had a girl, Your Majesty."

King Francis took a deep breath, "Will her health tolerate visits?"

"Of course, but the Queen is sleeping. If Your Majesty wishes to speak with her, it would be best to wait for Her Majesty to awaken by herself," Paré responded evenly.

Francis nodded, "I promise not to wake her," his voice was strained as he walked into the inner chamber of the Queen's apartment. Inside, the other physician, Jean Francois Fernel, was scribbling quickly on a piece of parchment and bowed once he noticed the presence of the King. Francis nodded his head once in acknowledgement, his attention drawn by the figure lying in the large bed.

Anne was pale, almost deathly pale. She rested on the left side of the bed with the thick red covers drawn up to her chin. Her hair was completely loose, fanning out on the white pillow in dark waves. Her eyes were shut tightly and seemed oblivious to everything going on around her.

He motioned for a servant to bring an arm chair next to the bed, his sight never leaving that of his wife. Anne didn't move from the noise of the movements next to her bed. Francis took a seat next to her and with a wave of his hand sent the remaining members of the room out. He wanted to be alone with his wife for now. The health of Royalty was hardly a private matter, but a matter of State, but he would like to be there for Anne as her husband rather than a King.

So King Francis watched his wife sleep quietly. It would be hours before Anne woke again, and in that time, several ladies and servants came in to tend to the King and Queen, but were sent away quickly. It was made clear instantly that King did not wish to be disturbed.

When Anne had finally stirred and opened her eyes weakly, she instantly mourned for her child. She had miscarried the baby. The thought brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. She remembered the despair she had felt when she had last miscarried. She had lost everything when she had lost her son the last time.

"Anne?" Francis voice was full of worry as he noticed that his wife was awake.

She turned her tear stained face to the King. There was no blame on his face, he only looked concerned, Anne felt her heart clench. It was such a different look than she was used to after miscarriages.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming a few hours prior.

Francis shook his head, "No, sweat heart. It is I who should be apologizing," he took her hand into his, "I had ignored the physician's warning. It was too soon. I am so sorry to give you so much pain."

Anne was afraid to believe him, but she saw only sincerity in his face. Perhaps for the first time, she truly felt the difference between Francoise and Henry. She had been drawn to Henry like a moth to a flame, and she had been burned. She had been so afraid to make the same mistakes, so afraid to open her heart again. Yet, her heart was not made out of stone, Francois's gentle care had slowly softened her heart. No, she had not forgotten Henry or the love they had once shared, but she was not so cold to remain unmoved by Francois. He was everything she had hoped Henry to be. He cared for her and valued her opinion. He protected her despite knowing her true identity. He was trying to comfort her when Henry would only have blamed her for the loss.

She turned her gaze to their interlocked hands. Two years ago, any intimacy between the two of them had caused her such discomfort, but now, it almost seemed natural. It was comforting, as if he was trying to lend her his strength.

Francois followed her gaze, and smiled. Clutching his wife's hand tighter, he brought it to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss upon her fingers. Turning his eyes back to lock with hers, "It will be alright, mon amour. If God deems it so, we will have other children."

Anne nodded as Francois wiped another streak of tears from her face. He shifted his position, coming to rest next to her on the bed. Pressing a soft kiss to Anne's forehead, he brought her head to rest upon his chest and gently stroked her hair. For the first time, Anne allowed herself to truly relax into his embrace and drifted to a peaceful sleep.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_

Again I must apologize for such a long stretch between updates.

A little heavy on the English side of thing in this chapter. I hope you liked the chapter. More Anne and Francis in the next chapter.

Paré is at court 20 years early (but he is at the correct age) cause I want to write him in. Jean Francois Fernel was probably the court physician in 1539, but I'm not sure.

Let me know what you think and leave me a review! I am curious whether people are still interested in this story. I will work hard on the next chapter.

Love,

Cruelangel


	14. Chapter 13: Fear

**Title: Nemesis**

**Author: **Cruelangel101

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing...Not the characters, not the show, and certainly not the production company…can anyone own history?

**Pairings:** Anne/Francis I and Anne/Henry VIII (Anne-past/left over feelings; Henry-one sided)

* * *

**AN:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or put the story on their alert list. Thought I'd update, in case anyone thought I'd leave y'all hanging after one update wonder again, lol. I tried hard to make the May 19th date as a tribute to Queen Anne. Sorry it isn't beta-ed, I'll try to get the next chapter beta-ed. Hope you guys like the new chapter…its short, but quite a LOT happens.

* * *

**Nemesis…the Greek goddess of revenge…**

**Chapter Thirteen: Fear**

_What is fear? It is said to be an unpleasant often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger. But the emotion itself is nothing compared to people's reactions against it. Fear can cause even the most calm to fret in anxiety, and drive people to panic stricken actions._

_**March 5**__**th**__**, 1539, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

Many things had changed at court since the King had returned from France. The King had been so angry with Anne Boleyn and her relatives immediately after their return, but now, not only had the King released the old ambitious coot, but he had also elevated their children to Prince and Princess of England. The drastic change in the King's behavior left many at Court perplexed.

Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, was an experienced courtier. Since childhood, he had been a close companion to the King, and had long since learned to read his friend's moods. His instinct told him there was a storm brewing. Beneath the King's calm facade, something dangerous was forming. He was angry, and worse yet, the King didn't seem to know how to release his aggression and frustration. It was as if Henry was trying to keep everything bottled up, and refused to speak to anyone about what it was that bothered him.

To make matters worse, the King was treating quite a few courtiers rather oddly. Cromwell for one had been on the end of cold rebuff several times already in the past few days. The same could be said for the Duke himself. Had they done something together that angered the King? How did that relate to Thomas Boleyn's release? The King had a secret and it was the root of these changes.

Brandon found himself rather fearful of the contents of this secret. Had the King become convinced of the Harlot's innocence? The trial of Anne Boleyn had been nearly three years ago. The movement against the woman had been started with the King growing ever more tired of the woman, and his growing infatuation with Queen Jane. But it had been Charles who had given the King an excuse to rid of Anne. A simple suggestion that she had been entertaining men had the results even the Duke had not predicted. He had desperately hoped that Henry would get rid of the awful woman and would be glad to see the Howards and Boleyns fall from grace, but he had not thought so many would be executed. He had not thought Cromwell would be able to find so much damning evidence against her, but really he should not have been surprised. Cromwell had always been a resourceful man, and he had a knack for predicting the desires of the King.

Had Anne Boleyn been innocent? It was a question that Charles had asked himself more than once. After the trial and the executions, he had told himself about the woman's guilt so many times that he had come to believe in it, but before…had he thought she was guilty when he had told the King? The truth was he wasn't sure. It had only been a suggestion that he had hoped would lead the King to set her aside, to make the King see that the woman wasn't worth it. He certainly had not seen the woman's guilt with his own eyes. Given her reputation, Charles wouldn't have been surprised that she had a lover or two, but what Cromwell had suggested seemed ludicrous to even her worst enemies. One hundred lovers…where on earth would she have had the time to entertain so many away from the prying eyes of her ladies who nearly always attended to her?

No matter if the woman was guilty or not, Charles had still been the one who had made the initial suggestion to the King. If the King was now convinced of her innocence, then Brandon was in trouble. The King would be annoyed with all who played a hand in her downfall. It wasn't a matter of whether the King loved the woman or if he had any desires for her to remain his wife, it was a matter of pride now. The King had been sure of her guilt before, if she had been innocent, he would feel like a fool for believing in the evidence brought against her. The King never liked to feel like a fool…may god pity them all.

* * *

_**March 6**__**th**__**, 1539, Palace of Whitehall, England **_

Thomas Cromwell was a calm and collected man by nature. He was quite resourceful, and he counted being knowledgeable about the courtiers and their secret plans amongst his strengths. So it had been quite shocking when the King had declared his desire to make his illegitimate children Prince and Princesses of England. He couldn't fathom why the King had such a change of heart, and wondered if the French Queen had played a role.

What disturbed him more was the fact that none of his sources could tell him the contents that the King had spoken about to Thomas Boleyn in the tower. The changes that the King had made after that conversation had been so drastic, that Cromwell could not believe that the plan had been a spur of the moment idea. One thing he hated more than anything was being blindsided.

There was of course another matter of concern: the King's attitude toward him. Although, the King had cited no specific fault, and he carried on with his duties as the Chancellor just like before, he could not shake that feeling of unease from his mind. His instinct told him, something was drastically wrong, and his instinct had never failed him before.

Had Thomas Boleyn managed to convince the King of his daughter's innocence? Was that the reason, the King suddenly wanted to pursue a marriage alliance with France again? Did the King forgive his former wife? Even if the King believed she had never betrayed him almost three years ago, Cromwell could hardly believe that the King would forgive a wife who is now officially married to another man.

All of these brought an uneasy feeling of fear to the Chancellor as if he was working with borrowed time. After all, his actions against Anne Boleyn had been what the King desired at that point in time. He could not have anticipated that she would give birth to a son and once the proceedings had already begun he could not have allowed the verdict to be anything but guilty. If Anne Boleyn had been cleared, she would have moved to gain revenge against those who struck against her. Yet…She wasn't killed in the end. She had managed to escape and elevated herself to the position of Queen once again if the rumors were to be believed. What's to say that she would not use her new found foreign powers against her old enemies? Cromwell sighed, another wave of uneasy fear passed through him.

No, he would not just sit back and do nothing. He needed to get back into the King's good graces, and he had a perfect plan to put into action. The dissolution of the monasteries has been delayed in the years due to the changing powers of Europe. Focus had been shifted more towards foreign policies. But now, if he were able to accomplish his original plans perhaps the King would forget whatever grievances he had.

* * *

_**March 10**__**th**__**, 1539, Woodstock Manor, England**_

"Princess, you must not stand on the furniture!" Lady Champernowne reprimanded her small charge softly.

The young girl, newly elevated to the rank of Princess again, turned to her governess. There was a look in her eyes that made her caretaker pause in her steps. Her eyes held the expression that was hard to find on a five years old child. They held a sense of authority, but also a sense of loneness and sadness.

Despite Lady Champernowne's best effort to ensure that the little girl was comfortable and never in need of anything, she could not comfort the child's distress from being banished from court. Even now, with such drastic changes in the English court and the increase to the princess's household and allowance in accordance to her rank, there was no word from the King that summoned the Princess back to court. She had not even been summoned to rejoin her brothers. It was rather difficult to argue that they were no longer in exile.

Princess Elizabeth sat down on the dresser by the window she was previously staring out of, "I just wanted to see if there was anyone coming down the road." She sighed, another action that Katherine Champernowne found odd on a child, "But no one is coming."

"Oh Princess," Kat rushed forward to embrace the little girl, "We were not expecting visitors today." She tried to soothe the distraught girl.

"It's because Papa doesn't love me anymore," it wasn't a question. The little Princess blinked back her own tears. She really missed her Mama, but Lady Bryant had told her, Mama had done something wicked and would never come see her again. Elizabeth didn't think she believed her. Her Mama was the best Mama in the world, and Elizabeth didn't think she could do anything wicked.

* * *

_**March 21**__**st**__**, 1539, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"Your Highness," Lady Catherine Neville, nee Catherine Parr, dropped to a deep curtsey before the newly reinstated Princess Mary. Only a short few months ago, when Catherine had written to Princess Mary, she had still only held the title of Lady. Now, with the young woman reinstated, provisions had been drawn to further increase the princess's household to a size that was befitting of her highness's station.

Princess Mary smiled at her new lady in waiting, motioning for the young woman to rise, "Lady Neville, I am very pleased that you could finally join us."

"My husband and I must thank Your Highness for your kindness in accepting this humble servant into your household," Catherine responded as described by protocol.

Mary nodded, "It had been my pleasure, my lady," she looked wistfully at Catherine for moment as if debating her next words, "Your mother had been a great friend to my late mother. I hope that we will also have a such a friendship."

Catherine curtsied again, "It would be my greatest honor, Princess." She meant her words. While Princess Mary and her might have different views on religion, Catherine could not help but admire the silent strength that rolled off of the young woman before her. The princess had suffered great hardship at her own father's hands and lost her mother through the process. Despite these hardships, the Princess still carried herself with such grace and dignity.

* * *

_**April 7**__**th**__**, 1539**__**, Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"There is a matter I wish to discuss with you, mon amour," King Francis stated to his wife as they dined together, and then he clarified "An English matter."

Anne looked up from her fish with an expression of confusion, "An English matter?" Since her miscarriage, Anne's health had not recovered as quickly as she would have liked. In turn, she spent a great deal of time in her own chambers, far less involved in court politics as she had been only a few months prior.

Francis nodded, "It appears that King Henry VIII had a change of heart. He now wishes to continue pursuing his alliance with France. In fact, he has sent his regret on the…unpleasant parting of our ways." There was a small scowl forming on his lips, barely noticeable to the casual observer, but his wife did not miss it. However, the Queen made no comment on the King's distaste for the English King. They had never been true friends and the events of their last parting had certainly left a nasty taste in everyone's mouths. "He proposes a marriage alliance between our children. Charles with his daughter…the _Princess Elizabeth."_

The Queen's gasp of surprise was unmistakable. The King did not comment however, "It would appear, that the English King is quite desperate for an Imperial alliance."

He did not have to explain his comment to Anne as she quickly made the connection after his statement, "He wants the Infanta Joanna for his son?"

"Joanna is after all one of the most sought out Princesses in Christendom. I am not surprised he desires her to be the consort of his son, Prince Edward, the Prince of Wales."

Anne felt her heart sank slightly. Prince Edward was still the Prince of Wales. Jane Seymour's son was still the heir to the English throne. She hated the thought of the Seymour whore's child succeeding after Henry. "Elizabeth," she turned the conversation back to their original topic, "She is a Princess?"

King Francis chuckled, "It would seem that Henry changes his mind as quickly as he changes jewerlry. He now claims that his daughter by Katherine of Aragon, and his children by Anne Boleyn are Prince and Princesses of England as they had been conceived when he had believed his previous marriages to be true." Honestly, Francis thought the English King was making a fool out of himself. How can a King be so fickle in nature? He almost pitied the Kingdom the man ruled.

"They are all officially royalty?" asked Anne incredulously. She had had no intention of legitimizing Mary before, but if Henry made use of the good faith clause, then of course he could declare his precious daughter a Princess as well. Not to mention, if he elevated Mary, it would certainly please the Emperor.

"As of now they are, but who knows if the King of England will change his mind next month," Francis replied, "They are placed behind Queen Jane's children in the succession as he maintains his only true marriage is with Jane Seymour."

Well, it had not been the outcome that Anne had desired and strived for, but all was not lost. Until Jane Seymour produced more children, William would be the next in line after Edward. If the Seymour wrench had produced a daughter…while the girl may have precedence over William under the current conditions, she would not put it pass Henry to try and place William ahead of the girl. Henry had spent so long in his attempt to pass his throne to a male heir, that he was unlikely to leave the Kingdom to a girl in the absence of a Duke of York.

"Is Your Majesty considering the proposal then?" she asked hesitantly. This was a delicate subject. She could not deny that she would love to have her daughter in France with her. She had not been able to protect the child from the harsh English court, but in France, Anne could finally be a mother to her again.

Francis didn't respond immediately, instead he took some time to study his wife, who pushed the fish around her plate without ingesting any. He took a sip of the rich red wine, before finally responding, "The proposed match between Charles and the Infanta Joanna had been out of spite. I can admit to that. I had no real plans to see it come to fruition in the years to come. But I had other candidates in mind for Charles. Jeanne d'Albret could make a fine wife for him."

"Your niece?" Anne asked. Jeanne d'Albret was the eldest daughter and only surviving child of Marguerite de Navarre who was Francis's only legitimate sister. Indeed, Jeanne would make an excellent bride for the second son of the King of France, especially if her mother did not produce another male heir. With a marriage to Jeanne, Charles had a change to become the King of Navarre upon the death of the current King.

Francis nodded and continued, "But of course, I believe I had once told you that Elizabeth would make an interesting bride for Charles if she was anything like her _late _mother." He took another sip of wine, "She holds the title Princess of England now, and would be a good match for Charles as well…Yet, I hate allowing the English King to think he has outmaneuvered me if there is a successful negotiation between the Prince of Wales and the Infanta Joanna." In truth, both brides had their own benefits. A union between Jeanne and Charles would help keep the power within the family, while, a union between Elizabeth and Charles would ensure an English Alliance.

"All of the children are still young. We have much time before a final match needs to be made," Anne reasoned. She had sensed the hesitation in Francis's words. While he had offered to make Elizabeth a French bride previously, it had not been possible at the time. It had not been a true offer. Now, that she was a Princess of England again, the possibility became truly available, and it brought the hesitation to the forefront.

The King agreed, "Of course…it would not hurt to discuss the alliance with the English for the time being." He may dislike the English King for certain reasons, but he could not forget that they had a common enemy, the Emperor.

* * *

_**April 20**__**th**__**, 1539**_, _**Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Your Majesty," Lord Brosse bowed as he entered the Queen's Privy Chambers, an ornate and delicately crafted silver box in his hands.

Anne smiled, "My Lord," she acknowledged, already quite aware of the contents of the box. She had helped to design the piece and hoped the finished piece was what she had expected.

The French noble didn't waste more time with small talk and immediately handed the box to the Queen. When the Queen opened the lid, she let out a small gasp. The intricate necklace was beyond her expectations. Made of carefully selected diamonds and rubies, the quality jewels were embedded on a beautifully crafted gold choker necklace. It was a magnificent piece, fit for a Queen.

"Do Your Majesty find the piece acceptable?" the Lord asked, already knowing the answer to the question from the Queen's pleased expression.

Anne nodded, "This is beautiful, My Lord. I think the King will also be very happy with it." She traced the designed gently, "I daresay, this will please any woman who receive this!" The alliance that Francis was seeking was certainly unconventional for any King of Christendom, but it was an alliance that would benefit France. The Ottoman Empire was friendly with Poland, and one of the reasons for Princess Margaret's marriage to the heir of the Polish throne was due to this additional connection.

"Have you prepared an appropriate messenger for this?" She asked as she shut the box gracefully and handed the piece back to Lord Brosse.

With the box tucked under his arms again, Brosse nodded, "Yes, the King selected the messenger personally. He is well aware of the delicate nature of the situation."

"Very well, My Lord," Anne dismissed the Lord, "You may take the gift to the King so it may be sent to Roxelana, the Haseki Hürrem Sultan, may she help secure the alliance for us."

* * *

_**May 5**__**th**__**, 1539, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

Queen Jane felt despair as she watched her maids carry the bloody sheets away. Her courses had once again returned this month. Ever since the King had declared his other three children legitimate, he had returned to their bed. Since then, he had been disappointed with her courses the previous month, and now Jane could only cringe at what his expression would be.

She had fallen pregnant relatively easily after her marriage, but now it has been almost two years since the birth of Edward, but no child stirred in her womb. She had even consulted the physician privately, fearing Edward's difficult birth had caused her damage. He had assured her that although the labor had been long, if she took care of her health then there was no reason that she couldn't be pregnant sometime in the future. His assurances made little impact on Jane because she had seen the briefest of looks in his eyes when she had first posed the question. He had some reservations…Jane was sure that she had not imagined it.

"Your Majesty," Jane made no movement to acknowledge her sister, absorbed in her own misery, "Jane?" Lady Dorothy Seymour questioned softy.

The Queen finally turned to face her sister, a solemn look about her, "I have failed again," she whispered mostly to herself.

Dorothy grabbed her sister's hand, "No, it has only been two months since His Majesty returned to your bed again."

Jane shook her head, "Its not just these two months. I haven't been pregnant since Edward's birth and that was almost two years ago," she grabbed her sister's hand, a frantic look in her eyes, "What if…what if Edward's birth had left me damaged? What if I can never have another child?"

"Jane, don't be so irrational. You needed time to recover from that traumatic birth. Now that both you and the King are trying hard again, it will only be a matter of time before God blesses you with another son. You only need to be patient," Dorothy reasoned calmly.

"My husband…he is not a patient man…." Queen Jane couldn't keep the tears out of her eyes, "I fear what he will do if I don't give him a Duke of York soon."

Dorothy embraced her sister in comfort, "Jane, you mustn't worry so much. You are the Queen of England, the mother of the future King of England. Nothing could harm you. You are safe and the beloved wife of his Majesty."

Jane smiled at her sister but made no attempt to respond. She didn't feel quite as safe as Dorothy had described. It was awful to think this, but sometimes she couldn't help but feel that things would have been better for their family had she died during childbirth. At least then, she would have always retained an untouchable place in her husband's heart.

* * *

_**May 7**__**th**__**, 1539, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

"Jane need not be so worried," Edward Seymour reasoned to his sisters, Elizabeth and Dorothy, "As long as the King has Prince Edward, her position and our family's position are secure."

Thomas laughed, "I don't think Jane's fears are completely unreasonable," he ignored his brother's exasperated look at him, "The longer she takes to give the King another son, the more appealing the Harlot's son will appear."

"Jane has been trying very hard to become with child," Dorothy Seymour reasoned on behalf of their royal sister. She did not like to report the Queen's private fears even to her own siblings, but there had been such concern in her sister's eyes, that she had felt at a loss of what to do.

"Well, trying hard doesn't matter when she has nothing to show for it," Thomas Seymour scoffed.

"Be reasonable, Thomas" Elizabeth tried to defuse the situation, "it has only been a short time since the French incident, and we know that the King didn't want to visit anyone's bed after the disaster in France."

The younger Seymour brother shook his head, "It doesn't matter how reasonable we are about this, and the only opinion that counts is the King's. He is not a patient man, nor is he very reasonable when he becomes angry."

"For once, Thomas has a point," Edward agreed to the surprise of his female siblings.

Elizabeth Cromwell, nee Seymour sighed, "But what is Jane to do? She can only pray that God will bless her with children soon."

"And before we know it, that boy will be named the Duke of York or worse still, the Prince of Wales," Thomas Seymour scowled at his sister in annoyance.

"What are you planning, Thomas?" Edward asked his sibling warily. It was no secret that the second Seymour son was ambitious like his brother, but unlike his brother, Thomas can be rather careless at times.

"I hear stories of the King growing fonder of the boy everyday. Just a few days ago, when he visited the Prince Edward, his attendants remarked that he spent most of the day with the harlot's son instead, playing with him and praising him," Thomas explained.

Dorothy was quick to jump to her nephew's defense, "The King didn't want to overexert the little Prince. The other boy is older."

"And healthier," Edward added in his two cents.

"Edward!" Elizabeth reprimanded, offended that her brother would say such a thing, even though everyone did know it to be the truth. It was still not a fact that the Seymour family liked to admit to in public.

"We should have just gotten rid of the boy. He is a hindrance to our family!" Thomas stated bluntly.

Edward's eyes widen ever so slightly, surprised at the conviction in his brother's words. He had suspected that Thomas had such plans, but no matter what, the boy was a son of the King and now a Prince of England. To plot his death was treason.

"Thomas, don't say that!" said Dorothy in panic. Now fully wishing she hadn't voiced Jane's concerns, "You know the Queen has forbidden you to harm the child in anyway." She thought it best to remind Thomas of Jane's royal title so that he would be more inclined to follow their sister's expressed command.

Her response from her brother was a scoff, "Jane has always been too weak hearted," he exclaimed, "If our family wants to remain on top, we have to take certain measures to ensure our supremacy. Jane has never had the stomach for such actions." He left out the part where he also thought that his sister, although gentle and sweet by nature, lacked the brains to be a devious courtier. It had been true luck that the King had been tired of Anne Boleyn when he came across Jane. She might have never gained the attention of the King under other circumstances.

"Thomas," Edward warned, "Such drastic measures are not necessary yet. The King is fickle, today he may praise the harlot's boy, but in a few days, he may exile him like he has left the boy's older sister. We need not act against him until he becomes more of a threat."

Thomas didn't argue against his brother's reasoning, but he seriously thought that Edward was underestimating the threat posed by the young boy. If his brother wasn't going to be man enough to ensure the prosperity of their family, then Thomas was certainly going to step up to the plate. In time, they will thank him for his forethought in the future. When either brother became convinced of anything, it was hard to change their minds.

* * *

_**May 12**__**th**__**, 1539**_, _**Palais du Fontainebleau, France**_

"Your Majesties," Bellay walked quickly into the chamber quickly and bowed.

King Francis looked up from the chess match with his wife and regarded the noble curiously, "My Lord?"

Bellay held a simple document in his hands, his face unreadable, "A letter from our Spanish Ambassador," he handed the letter to Francis who took it and immediately began to rapidly scan the contents.

Anne watched as her husband's expression changed as he read. His eyes were wide, as if in shock. It seemed to take quite a few moments before the King finally looked up and turned to his wife in order to explain the contents, "The Holy Roman Empress is dead."

The Queen gasped, this was certainly unexpected. "How?" Anne asked softly. The death of the Empress carried far more consequences in times of turmoil than it would have had it been peaceful between the countries.

Francis handed her the letter but continued to explain, "She gave birth to a son on the 30th of April who did not survive. The Empress then followed her child on the 1st of May. My ambassador informs me that the Emperor deeply mourns his wife and asks for the return of their son Philip so he may properly pay his respect his late mother."

Anne nodded, "It will be impossible to deny such a request when phrased like this."

Francis sighed, "His Holiness would be expected to intervene on the Emperor's behalf as well. It seems the Infante is destined to return to home this year." He leaned back in his chair, deep in thought for a few moments before speaking again, "If Margret wasn't betrothed…perhaps she could have become the Emperor's next wife." While it might not have been tasteful to explore new nuptials for a man whose wife was not yet cold in the grave, France could not allow the Empress's death to open the door for new imperial alliances that would pose a greater threat to France.

The Queen arched a brow at her husbands comment, "Breaking the marriage contract with Poland may not be wise. They are after all our ally against the imperial forces. Besides, I have heard of the devotion the Emperor has for his wife, he may refuse to marry for quite some time. No one could fault him in that during the Empress's mourning period."

Francis agreed, "I wonder if the English will try to offer a princess of their own as the new Empress."

"Mary?" Anne questioned. Years ago, Mary Tudor had indeed been betrothed to the Emperor, but he had broken the engagement when he married Isabella of Portugal. With the death of the Empress and the returned legitimacy of the Princess, the King of England would perhaps pursue the match. After all what good is granting the title of Princess to his previously bastardized daughters if the King does not make use of them in marriage alliances. Mary Tudor was a girl of three and twenty, beyond the normal age of marriage for women, but she was not an old maid just yet. She was still well within her most fertile years and no doubt would make a tempting bride. The Emperor being the girl's cousin, and someone who had sympathized with her plight for years was only an added bonus for the English.

"Princess Mary…a match we would certainly like to avoid," the King replied.

There was no one that was available for marriage in the immediate family of the King. So Anne listed the ladies closely tied to the French Royal family in her mind before she finally came to an unmarried candidate, "What about Marguerite de Bourbon?" Marguerite was the daughter of Charles de Bourbon. Her elder sister who had passed away the year prior had been one the prime candidates for James V of Scotland in 1536. She was also the same age as Princess Mary.

Francis smiled, "Indeed, mon amour. If we offer Marguerite as a prospective bride, even if the Emperor does not accept, he would not be able to accept any other brides to make alliances." It was a good plan. If the Emperor refused, his likely reason would be to mourn his late wife and thus eliminating all other prospective brides and possible alliances. France had finally gained an advantage against the imperial forces after the devastating defeat in Paris, and King Francis was not keen to lose any gained footing simply because the Empress died.

* * *

_**May 15**__**th**__**, 1539, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

Henry VIII of England stared at the parchment in front of him with unblinking eyes. It was short and written in a hurried manner, simply stating, _His Highness the Prince of Wales and Prince William are both gravely ill._

Those words made the heat leave his body instantly, and the world felt like it was coming to a stop around him. He was vaguely aware that someone was asking him a question, probably awaiting his directions, but he felt that his throat swell leaving him voiceless. It wasn't just one son, but both of them, both Princes of England. Was this a punishment from God?

It took a few moments before the King of England finally recovered enough to speak, "Send Dr. Linacre to Hatfield at once." A Royal physician was already at Hatfield, but Dr. Linacre was someone that Henry trusted. The King could only pray that the Physician could save them.

The Page bowed quickly and left the room. Henry turned to the Duke of Suffolk, "Have them prepare the horses, the Queen and I will ride there at once," his previous anger and annoyance at the nobleman temporally forgotten.

Charles Brandon stepped hurriedly forward, "Your Majesty, neither you nor the Queen should go to Hatfield at this time. They say that a few others are quite sick as well. The physicians have not rule out a contagion. We can not have the Royal Family congregated there incase the disease spreads." He prayed that the King would see enough sense despite his shock so that he would not put his health at risk. It would be disastrous if the disease that troubled both Princes now spread to both the King and Queen.

Henry charged at the Duke, grabbing him by his collar, he shoved him several steps backward, "They are my sons! My Heirs!" The King's grip tightened as the Duke felt the wall behind him, "Nothing will happen to them!" he shouted as if trying to convince himself. Tears formed as his voice became hoarse and eyes became red, "God can not take them from me now…Can he, Charles?"

The Duke didn't know how to respond. Charles grabbed the King by his shoulders, "I will go in your place, Your Majesty. I promise to keep Your Majesty informed of everything that goes on at Hatfield." Brandon felt terrible for his friend who had given him so much. Henry had torn the country apart in his search for his legitimate male heir. It had been a blessing when the Queen had finally given the King the long awaited Prince, but now it seemed as if everything was threatened once again. Not only was the Prince of Wales sick, the son that the Harlot had born was ill as well. England would be on the brink of civil war once again. It was no wonder that the King was so distraught when he feared the worst for his sons.

Henry calmed slightly at the Duke's words, looking at his friend with desperate eyes, "Thank you, Charles. Thank you."

* * *

_**May 16**__**th**__**, 1539, Yorkshire, England**_

Robert Aske was a devout man. He hadn't been initially involved in the protest, but for such an important cause, he could not help but fight with them. They could no longer remain quiet. In the last two months, Cromwell had begun shutting down the religious house with renewed aggression. It was if someone had set a fire under him and he worked as if time was against him. He refused to hear their pleas and protests. Now they were left with no other choice. They had to stand together in order for the King to hear their plight. As the word spread, more people arrived to support their cause. He was already chosen as the leader of the nine thousand men in front of him.

Their plan was to march on York and seize the Churches that Cromwell had shut down. They would reinstate the expelled monks and nuns to their houses so that Catholic practices could be continued. Their choice in action was forced upon them as their protests against the King's new policies were left unaddressed. Only through force could they get the King to listen to their grievances and put a stop to Cromwell's actions. These monks and nuns were not corrupt. How could they allow them to be expelled from the religious houses?

They were quite aware that their actions were against the Crown, and as such could be punished with death. Despite the fear, they still banded together to fight for what they believed in.

* * *

_**May 19**__**th**__**, 1539, Palace of Whitehall, England**_

The Duke of Suffolk really hated being the bearer of bad news, and this was by far the worst news he would ever have to bring to the King. Prince Edward, the Prince of Wales was dead. It had started as a minor illness that affected both Prince Edward and Prince William. The illness then quickly turned serious for both Princes, but it had been the Edward's natural ill health that had finally given out under the strain of the illness while his brother slowly began the road to recovery.

He had been a good-looking child, and Brandon had no doubt he would have made a handsome young man had he been given the chance to live. But, the boy was not given a chance to live; his life was lost before it truly began. So much hope had been placed on the boy's shoulders, but it was all lost now. It was a true pity.

The Duke reached the King's Privy chambers quicker than he had wanted, but there was no point in trying to delay. He didn't wait for the herald to announce his presence to the King; instead, he pushed past the man. To the herald's and the guard's credit, they seemed to recognize the urgency on the Duke's grim face and put up little protest.

Once the Duke of Suffolk reached the King, he quickly dropped to one knee, "Your Majesty, the Prince of Wales has left this Earth." His voice was soft, and he kept his eyes rooted to the ground.

What awaited him wasn't the loud roar of the King as he had expected. Instead, the King remained deathly quite and still. Slowly, as the seconds passed still with no response, Charles finally lifted his head slowly to regard the King. It seemed the grief was too much for his friend. Just as Charles was going to get up in order to comfort his unmoving friend, Thomas Cromwell and the Duke of Norfolk busted into the chamber, both breathless.

The King didn't even look at them initially, his eyes still glued to the Duke of Suffolk who had remained on the ground, yet Cromwell's next words, brought the attention of the room quickly to the chancellor. "Your Majesty, there has been a large rebellion. Nine thousand men marched against York and they had seized the religious houses in the area. More rebels are joining by the day. Numbers have been reported as high as forty-thousand men by this time."

For the King of England, today was shaping to be the worst day of his life.

* * *

_**Author Note's**_

I smiled, when I read one reviewer had talked about the death of the empress in the review for the last chapter, as when I read the review I was in the middle of writing the scene between Francis and Anne finding out about the poor Empress's death.

This was shorter than my usual chapters, but I put in everything I wanted for this Chapter. Pilgrimage Grace is a few years late, but it will serve an important purpose. I hope no one is terribly attached to Thomas Cromwell, if you guys get my meaning. I have decided to title the next chapter: Fate.

I actually dropped quite a few subtle hints in this chapter about future plots, I'm curious as to if anyone caught them and can predict the upcoming events. Let me know what you guys think! I love reviews and reading the thoughts of my readers.

Will lets end with, may Queen Anne rest in peace.

Until next time,

Cruelangel


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